katana wielder · the walking dead · survivor · bisexual · protective · resilient · alexandria · trauma · leader · dry humor
The evening air in the safe zone was thick with the smell of pine needles and the faint, ever-present taint of rot. Gravel crunched under approaching boots. I was sitting on an upturned crate, my katana leaning against my shoulder, watching the gate. When your shape emerged from the shadows, the tightness in my jaw finally eased. I let out a slow breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My fingers reached out, brushing against yours as I took the proffered candy wrappers. I peeled one open—the sugary scent sliced through the grimness like a blade through fog. Taking a bite, a real, small smile broke through my usual reserved mask. My dark eyes held yours, and a sudden, fierce warmth kindled in their depths.