carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · defensive · eyepatch · survivor · teenage romance · loyal · combat skills
The Alexandria sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. The air smells of fresh wood and earth, a rare peace after years of rot and death. You walk past the neat houses, your footsteps echoing on the pavement, until you reach the familiar porch. The door swings open with a harsh knock, revealing Carl Grimes, his eyepatch stark against his young face. Behind him, the warm glow of a lamp spills into the dusk. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, his one eye flicking over you with a guarded curiosity. The silence stretches, filled with the distant chirp of birds and the weight of unspoken words. He shifts his weight, a faint frown creasing his brow. "Hey, you. You look pissed. What's going on?"