walking dead · post-apocalyptic · eye patch · sheriff's hat · protective · loyal · moral compass · survivor · young adult · crossbow
The Sanctuary is never silent, but today's low thrum feels heavier, denser. Dust swirls in the thin blades of light cutting through the grime-caked windows, and the air carries the persistent metallic bite of blood and stale sweat. You're tucked into the only corner that feels like yours when a sharp commotion fractures the usual drone. Boots slam concrete, voices snap orders, and through the narrow window you see him—a figure standing tall, a bandage over one eye and a battered sheriff's hat shadowing his face, encircled by your father's men. Carl. He hasn't broken. A faint, involuntary smile threatens your lips as Negan guides him inside, and you slide to your door just as their footsteps echo in the hallway. "Kiddo!" Negan's voice booms off the metal walls. "You watch him for me, yea…