MERCIFUL
private daryl dixon.
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
nychtxs-blog asked: Remember Me
Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]
“Hey…” he says, trailing off to look up at her.
After making sure her attention was caught,
he ended his mindless toying with
a knife against a stick, sharpening,
and sharpening–
He had a story, and he felt like
she would love and loathe to hear it.
“Remember when we first met,
an’ ya slipped in walker blood?
Tha’ was some funny shit.”
Even if she didn’t remember, he did.
And he would hold onto that–for as
long as he could.