Outlive | Daryl Dixon ²

𝐱𝐥𝐢𝐯. 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

Denise stood apart from the rest of Alexandria, the sole soul who extended acceptance rather than coldness towards Astrid. Her kind eyes bore no trace of fear upon encountering Astrid's own survival-worn appearance; instead, they radiated warmth, welcoming her with an unguarded smile. And despite her quieter disposition, Denise wielded a silent strength. Astrid had hope that their partnership would blossom into something deeper, a true friendship. A bond forged by their shared work.

After several hours organizing, and then bidding Denise and the others at the infirmary off, Astrid began testing herself in an attempt to navigate the labyrinthine paths of Alexandria. It only took her three tries to figure out the path back to the house. Still, each turn felt like a challenge, a puzzle to unravel, and exhaustion eventually gnawed at her patience. For once, she just wanted something easily handed to her. Unfortunately, things did not work like that anymore. The only way one got anything worth anything in this world now was if they worked for it—or they stole it.

To add to her growing annoyance, Astrid encountered Jessie on her final way back, the woman Rick had spoken of. Initially, she had seemed okay. But just okay. It lasted only a few minutes, though, before her attitude quickly dissolved into arrogance, especially when she began to hint about seeming to know Rick better than Astrid did now. Suppressing the urge to lash out at the stranger, the cornered Lancaster woman had bit back her scathing retorts. After all, it was more than just her own dignity on the line now. The friendship between her and Rick was already strained enough.

Four days had passed since speaking to him. She hated the void that followed. Hated the severing between them. How could so much have torn away at them since the day they met at the top of the quarry? They had saved each other's lives. Over and over again. She could not forget that. Did not want to forget that. Even despite all that they had been through since the fall of the prison, and then her shooting. But even as she tried to fix it, fix them, Astrid grappled with the realization that the chasm between them widened not due to her efforts anymore. But his.

Frustration and nerves warred within her as she sought to calm the whirlwind of her thoughts, eventually deciding to retreat to the solitude of her new bedroom in her new home.

New bedroom. New home. It was enough to throw the Lancaster woman through a new loop.

In the hush of the mansion as Astrid had grown to call it, she nestled further into herself as she sat on the edge of her mattress. The house was empty. The whereabouts of her other group members were unknown, save for Bailey's mention of being at a neighboring house that doubled as a makeshift school. At least someone seemed to be acclimating well.

Astrid shuddered. Then she shrouded herself further, pulling her black sleeves over her hands, all the while still contemplating the infirmary keys laid out on her boot—one silver, the other black. One to lock and unlock the building, the other to maintain and secure its supplies.

Astrid's fingers soon danced over the velvety comforter beneath her, and the sensation elicited a shiver that skittered up her spine. Her gaze swept around the bedroom, her bedroom, a space she now shared with Daryl, and marveled at the unexpected homeliness it exuded. In the bygone era of civilization, she would have never dreamt of affording such luxury, especially not this room. The expanse was generous, boasting a king-sized bed flanked by two distinct mahogany dressers and nightstands. On the far end of the room, her eyes lingered on several paintings that had been pulled from the walls and flipped inward, a sight that drew a smile to her lips as she recognized their uncanny resemblance to the very artwork Daryl had once criticized during their rescue mission to Atlanta for Beth.

Abruptly, the bedroom door creaked open, startling Astrid momentarily before she relaxed at the sight of only her hunter entering. He kicked off his shoes and plopped heavily down onto the bed beside her. "Why the face?" He wondered.