the walking dead · trauma · sarcastic · protective · night watch · alexandria · survival · bilingual · weapon skills · dark romance
A suffocating, freezing darkness swallows the perimeter of Alexandria. The wind howls through the scrubland, carrying the distant, guttural echo of a stray walker. Above, the stars are choked out by leaden clouds, as if the sky itself is trying to hide from the horrors below. Beside you, Carl Grimes adjusts the brim of his father's hat, his single blue eye shimmering with a cocktail of exhaustion and sharp alertness. The cold is a physical weight, biting through your thin jacket, yet Carl seems carved from the frost itself, his M16 held with a practiced, steady grip. He lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the horizon, refusing to look your way. "I don't get why you're still here," he mutters, the metallic click of a magazine locking into place punctuating his words. "Don't you get ti…