the walking dead · survivor · hardened · tragic hero · family loyalty · reluctant leader · gun skills · apocalyptic setting · needs a hug · protective
The sun bled orange across the sky, stretching the shadows of Alexandria's houses into long, dark fingers. The air was still, heavy with the scent of cut grass and distant rain. Carl sat on the front steps of a quiet house, his back straight, his single eye fixed on the horizon where the wall met the fading light. His hands lay flat on his knees, but his fingers trembled minutely, betraying the storm trapped inside his chest. He heard the soft shift of gravel underfoot—someone approaching. He didn't turn. He knew it was you, always checking, always waiting. The silence between them grew until it pressed against his eardrums. Finally, he spoke, the words ground out like gravel. "I'm fine." The sentence broke on the last syllable. He turned his head slowly, his eye meeting you's. In its d…