Imagines [Book Four]

The Walking Dead [Gen Fic] pt. 2

Daryl goes to the Red Witch for shelter during a storm when he asks if she can look for his long lost brother Rick.

. .

. .

It's been raining for the past two days and, even though you're perfectly safe, you're wondering when it's going to finally be over. The previous day had just been a steady drizzle with thunder rumbling in the distance, but today there's flashes of lightning and booming thunder that makes you wince. And the wind! You're pretty sure the wind would have ripped off parts of your roof if you weren't magically holding down the fort.

You're trying to keep your mind off the chaotic storm outside by reading a book when you feel the wards around your property being breached. It's an aura you're familiar with that you feel passing through and you hurriedly get up to see which moronic friend of yours is traveling through this storm.

Staying just on the inside of your screen door, you squint to see through the rain where you can see someone walking. The person is wearing a poncho with its hood pulled up and a backpack on their back. And it isn't until you see Dog run up to their side do you realize who it is, and the closer they get it's easier to see the crossbow in hand.

The moron is Daryl Dixon.

You summon a towel and then wait until he gets closer, opening the screen door and hollering for him to hurry up and get inside. He rushes up the porch steps, snapping his fingers at Dog to prevent him from running inside your home. He sets his crossbow down, drops his bag, and pulls the poncho off over his head.

Daryl takes the towel, running it over his hair and drying his face.

"Kick off your shoes out here for now. Bathroom's down the hall and to the right. There are spare clothes in the closet. Change so we can wash what you have on now." He grunts, doing as he's been told and heading inside to where you point him to go. Then left alone with Dog, you sigh at the shivering canine. "Alright, Dog, this might feel a little weird, but you're not muddying up my place."

You raise your hand, slowly rotating at the wrist and letting a red mist envelop Dog. He whines, but you know you're not hurting him. You're just pulling all the mud and water from his fur which might feel a little uncomfortable for him. When done, you open the door and gesture him inside. Dog gives you a soft woof and then rushes inside, making a beeline for the couch.

By the time Daryl exits the bathroom in a fresh set of clothes, you've heated up some soup you had earlier that day. You show him the laundry room and let him throw his stuff in.

When Daryl joins you in the kitchen, you gesture to the steaming bowl of soup across from you. "Eat while you tell me what the hell you're doing out in this storm."

Daryl huffs as he takes a seat. "Been campin' for a couple weeks now." He spoons some soup into his mouth, only to take three more spoonful's. "Thought I could rough out this weather, but it got bad. I was closer to here than to Alexandria, so I took a chance."

"Mhm. And why were you camping? We don't exactly live in a world where you can camp like you used to, Daryl."

He glances at you before glancing back down at his soup, eating a bit more. "I was lookin' for Rick."

"And who's Rick?" You frown as you try to recall the name. "I don't think I've met him."

Daryl shakes his head. "Rick was- is like my brother. We've been together since the beginnin'." The correction of the past tense makes you realize this is someone he hasn't seen in a while. "We had a problem with a herd a while back and to keep them from overrunnin' Alexandria, Rick blew up the bridge."