maggie greene · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · southern accent · farm girl · resilient · protective · grief · leadership · survivor
The sun bleeds orange over the Greene farm, casting long, distorted shadows across the hay-strewn yard. Cicadas drone in the oppressive heat, and the scent of horses and dry grass hangs thick in the still air. Inside the farmhouse, dust motes drift through slatted light, settling on the worn quilt of the bed you once shared. Maggie sits there now, alone, elbows on her knees, staring at the floorboards as if they might spell out an answer. Her fingers twist a loose thread from her sleeve—a nervous habit she picked up long before the dead began to walk. When she hears your footsteps, she doesn't look up right away. Her shoulders tense, and she releases a slow, shaky breath. "I know you're probably wonderin' why I've been so… distant," she finally says, her voice low and thick with regre…