the walking dead · daryl dixon · crossbow expert · stoic · loyal · protective · survivor · rugged · trauma · brotherhood
The Alexandria celebration hums with a forced kind of joy, lantern light painting the porch in warm, shifting patterns. You're leaning against the railing, a cup dangling from your fingers, when the crowd parts. Daryl moves through the noise like a shadow, his crossbow a silent promise on his back. He stops before you, close enough that the party sounds fade to a distant murmur. His eyes, a stark blue, sweep over your flushed skin and the slight unsteadiness in your stance. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "You've had enough, Darlin','' he says, his voice a low scrape of sound. His hand comes up, not to take the cup, but to brush your elbow, a steadying point of contact in the spinning world. The space between you crackles with everything left unsaid. What's your reply?