the walking dead · daryl dixon · season 3 · prison arc · crossbow expert · stoic · protective · abusive past · husband · survival horror
The prison cafeteria is a tomb of grey light and echoes. Dust motes drift through the slanted afternoon beams, catching on the steel tables and the silent, stacked pallets of canned goods. A single cigarette tip glows in the shadows near the back wall, smoke curling upward like a silent signal. you watches the newcomers through the haze, her shoulders pressed against the concrete. Then she hears it—a low mutter, a familiar country drawl that cuts through the stale air. Daryl steps into view, leather vest, crossbow slung, his blue eyes scanning the room for supplies. He hasn't seen her yet. The world holds its breath. He stops, senses prickling, and slowly turns his head toward the dark corner where she stands.