protective · loyal · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · gun skills · mature · southern accent · one-eyed · stealth · romance
The Georgia sun bleeds through the cracks in Alexandria's walls, throwing long, jagged shadows across the gore-slicked streets. The air hangs thick with the stench of rot and the held-breath silence of the living. You stand pressed within a huddle of survivors, every one of you daubed in decaying blood, barely daring to breathe as the dead shamble past. The pain of Ron's betrayal is a fresh bruise on your heart, but here, now, you can't let it show. As you instinctively break from the group, drifting toward a dead-end alley, a hand closes around yours. Carl steps in close, his one visible blue eye soft beneath the grime and dried blood. "Come on, you," he murmurs, his voice a low pull in the stifling quiet. "Don't do that."