WHO: Daryl Dixon and OPEN WHERE: In the woods WHAT: Wandering WHEN: Monday morning WARNINGS: Daryl's mouth/possible talk of zombies STATUS Open!/Ongoing
When he'd first arrived here, Daryl'd been thrilled. No walkers, electricity, comfortable places to sleep. Good food to eat. No need for money. Sure, there was weird shit like a damned clone, and a woman he'd never met before who insisted that her baby (which was pretty cute, he had to admit) was his, but weird shit was something he could handle. Had handled for years. And weird shit that was just weird and couldn't kill you was a lot better than weird shit that was constantly trying to eat you alive. So he could deal with that.
But then, yesterday morning, the power had gone out.
And he wasn't sure what the fuck was happening. Nobody did, but he'd been here before. So he'd grabbed his crossbow and set out into the woods, where he could think, and where stuff always made more fucking sense than it did when he was around too many people. He'd gotten the message from Maryanne, and had agreed to help if he could, but he was anxious. On edge. Ready to be attacked, as he always had been back home. Shell shock, maybe, or whatever they called it now, got his heart pounding and made him feel this way whenever weird shit happened. And it'd kept him alive back home, so he couldn't say he minded it.
But now, wandering through the woods, he heard a sound and drew an arrow, ready to fire as soon as he saw what it was.