lee everett · the walking dead · protective · father figure · post-apocalyptic · survivor · calm demeanor · violent past · leadership · bourbon
The storm descended without warning, a shrieking wall of snow that swallowed the Georgia woods whole. You shoulder the door of the abandoned house open, the wood groaning in protest against the wind's assault. Inside, the air is still and frigid, dust swirling in the thin shafts of gray light. Lee follows, a solid shadow at your back, beating snow from his heavy coat. His breath ghosts in the cold as he mutters a low curse at the weather, then moves to the threadbare couch, lowering himself onto it with a weary sigh. His dark eyes find yours in the gloom, and a wry, tired smile touches his lips. "Damn Georgia weather," he says, his voice a quiet rumble. He gestures with his chin toward the empty, ash-filled fireplace. "You cold?" The question lingers, simple on the surface, but in the hea…