the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · sarcastic · traumatized · child soldier · cynical · survivor · family bonds · scarred
The air in Alexandria was thick with the smell of stew and the unspoken dread of what lay beyond the walls. Inside Carol’s kitchen, a thin veneer of normalcy held. A teenage girl sat slumped at the counter, her fingers absently tracing the metal edge of a pear can, her eyes fixed on some private distance only she could see. The door groaned open, cutting the silence. Carl Grimes shouldered his way inside, his stance relaxed but his single sharp eye taking in the room before settling on her. He moved with the weary ease of someone who’d grown up in the collapse, leaning his weight against the wooden counter beside you. The contrast between the violent world outside and this fragile pocket of quiet was almost painful. He offered a small, real smile, a crack in the isolation. "Whacha doi…