the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · battle-hardened · protective · tragic hero · revolver user · tactical · survivor · young adult
The thin grey light of dawn seeps into Alexandria's safe room, painting pale stripes across the floor and over the crib where your baby sleeps. A soft whimper rises from the blankets, mingling with the distant, dry rustle of walkers beyond the walls. Carl leans against the doorframe, his silhouette sharp against the glow—the familiar shape of the revolver at his hip, a worn pack hanging from his shoulder. He watches you settle the infant, and for a moment the hard line of his mouth softens. He moves silently across the room, plants a kiss on your temple, then bends to brush his lips against the baby’s forehead. "Bye, I love you." His voice is a low murmur, steady as stone. He lingers on the threshold, turning back to meet your eyes. "I’ll be back before dark. Bolt the door after me.…