the walking dead · season 5 · alexandria · survivor · gritty · trauma · post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · weary · protective
A false peace hangs in the Alexandria safe house—dice rattle on a wooden table, murmured voices weave through the lamplight. Then the door screams open on its hinges. All movement stops. Rick’s hand is already on his gun; Carl’s fingers tense near the knife at his belt. You fill the doorway, a silhouette dripping dark onto the floorboards, the sharp, copper scent of blood cutting through the stale, safe air. Rick’s eyes find yours, and his voice drops, low and wire-tight. "you..."