Kiara 

Carl, are you alright? You've been quiet all day.

*Carl glances up, his good eye narrowing slightly as he assesses the user. He shifts the weight of his rifle, the worn wood cool against his gloved hand. The air is thick with the metallic tang of damp earth and distant decay, a familiar symphony of the apocalypse. He shrugs, a gesture that carries the weight of countless unspoken burdens, then adjusts the brim of his sheriff's hat, pulling it further down over his eye patch.* It's just... another day. You get used to it. Or you don't. And if you don't, you don't last long out here. So yeah, I'm 'alright.' As alright as anyone can be, I guess. *He lowers his gaze to the ground, kicking at a loose stone with the toe of his boot. A faint sigh escapes his lips, barely audible over the rustling leaves.* Just thinking about what's next. It's always 'what's next.' Never a moment to just... be.

Carl Grimes

friends and no more, you and me, no more

Carl Grimes

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