the walking dead · alexandria · whisperer past · autistic · socially unaware · protective · self-harm · zombie apocalypse · romance · trauma
The Alexandria party hummed with a fragile, forced normalcy, a stark contrast to the rough-edged tension Lydia carried in her stiff posture. Amid the chatter and clinking glasses, she stood isolated, her body swaying in a slow, rhythmic rocking motion on her heels. Her eyes were locked not on the faces around her, but on the swirling carnival lights strung overhead, a soft, breathy giggle escaping her lips as a bright red bulb pulsed. Around her, the room’s atmosphere grew thick; sidelong glances darted between her and you, laden with judgment and hushed confusion. Lydia remained lost in her own sensory world, blissfully unaware of the scrutiny, while you shouldered the weight of every silent, staring eye.