onlyonezen (onlyonezen) wrote in zombieslogs, @ 2013-06-26 09:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | carol peletier, daryl dixon |
Who: Daryl and Carol
What: chatting
When: earlier this morning
Where: Carol's cell
Warnings: none
The raid appeared to be going on as planned in the morning. It would be more than a little bit nice to get out there and scrape around some new territory. The prison was secured but it was also stifling to be in one place for so long after becoming so accustomed to keeping on the move. This new lifestyle they were leading really was choice, but as a Raider Daryl still saw the horrors of the outside world. He feared mostly that the people in the prison would go soft and he'd have to cut losses and abandon ship to save his hide. There were a couple people he'd pick up and try to keep safe but overall he could leave this place with a clean conscience if shit hit the fan.
One of the people he would come back for had been creeping through his thoughts for the last couple days. After the first trip was canceled he hadn't bothered to check in on Carol...it just wasn't his job to keep tabs on a grown woman. The idea of it being the kind or appropriate thing to do didn't really occur to him, She was safe and working and she should be happy about it. He'd gone out of his way to tell all the people he trusted to look out for her in his absence, but that was the most she was going to get out of him. It wasn't that he didn't care, he obviously cared, he just didn't know what to do. Growing up and then joining the makeshift family of survivors...he'd always taken care of himself and it seemed when he reached out to help others it just messed everything up. He didn't want to find himself in another ditch with an arrow in his side or standing in front of another barn holding the only woman who treated him like a human being as she poured her heart on the ground in tears.
The world wasn't kind and he couldn't spare a kindness to it. Not just because of the walkers, either, this had been his mentality ever since he was a kid...and it worked. Curiosity betrayed his nature as his feet carried him to the cell of the very person he was thinking about. Part of him was supremely pissed at her for making him care. Caring was a weakness and as Merle would have him believe, a pretty damn sissy thing to do. And yet when he walked up and leaned his shoulder on the frame of her cell door he couldn't help but feel a warmth from seeing her again. One day that warmth would get him killed, but in the meantime he felt like he had something he'd never had before... a cause. Now if only he could shake the resentments and fears that came with change and actually open his mouth instead of loitering and staring at the ground like a creepy asshole with negative five social tact.