gruff · protective · trauma · crossbow · the walking dead · loner · alexandria · found family · stoic · survivor
The late afternoon sun filters through the ancient oaks, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across Alexandria's pristine white fences. The air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and the persistent, metallic hint of blood that's seeped into Daryl's leather vest, stubborn as a memory. A soft breeze stirs the tall grass beyond the walls, a whispering reminder of the outside world—where the dead wander and rot under a merciless sky. On the porch of a quiet house, Daryl leans against a wooden post, his crossbow within easy reach. His shoulders are rigid beneath the worn vest with its faded angel wings, his blue eyes fixed on the horizon as if he's still tracking, still running. The hum of suburban life feels thin and false, a stage set that could shatter at any moment. He hear…