Garden of Evil » The Walking Dead

garden of evil ; two

She was nothing short of a tornado. Not in the way that she left ruin everywhere she set foot, but in such a way that the people she came into contact with never left her presence quite the same. A young, auburn-haired beauty, Blair McCall took pride in knowing that on more than one occasion, she had been the reason for numerous shattered relationships, broken families, and destroyed hearts. To her, it was all a game - a game in which she always came out on top.

"This is all just too much," the blonde girl - the most innocent of the kind - whispered to Blair as the two stood off in the corner of the newly occupied prison. Beth had taken quite a liking to the woman. This didn't surprise Blair; people usually gravitated toward her, like flailing insects caught in her web. "First Lori and T-Dog die, and now Glenn and my sister aren't coming back." With a short exhale, Beth pushed her tiny body from the wall and threw her hands in the air. "I can't take this waiting around all the time!"

"And what exactly do you plan on doing?" Blair questioned her, folding her freckled arms tightly over her chest. "Just run out into the middle of the forest and yell their names? That'll go over well."

Beth wasn't listening. She began to pace back and forth, then eventually into circles. "We need to figure out something soon. I want my sister back."

An only child, Blair never quite understood the bond between Beth and Maggie. From the day she met them, their relationship baffled her. The way they laughed together, occasionally held each other's hands, and cried on one another's shoulders was something that kept Blair at bay; while she was intrigued by this, she didn't want any part of it. The closest thing she ever had gotten to caring about before the outbreak was Carl and that was only because she was paid for doing so.

A dark figure high above them caught Blair's attention, pulling her piercing gaze away from the fretful girl chewing on her filthy nails in front of her. Daryl stood on the catwalk and curled his hands around the metal railing, his own determined, and yet so curious stare locked on the two women below him. "Rick wants to talk," he informed them, his gruff voice echoing off the concrete walls. Without so much as a word of departure, Daryl returned to his cell, hidden away in the very top corner of the block, to retrieve his crossbow.

A rush of excitement shot through Blair as she watched his body retreat into the darkness. In the game that she'd made in her head the second the dead began to walk, she labeled a certain sort of person that she rarely came into contact with: loot. This nickname served that this special person had peeked her interest, but something kept them from her. There had only been two loots before, one of which had been dead for nine months. Blair had cracked through and gotten her hands on him eventually, but it didn't seem long enough before he was ripped away from her grasp. It didn't matter to her anymore, though. Daryl was new loot and she was dead-set on making sure that he would soon be wrapped around her dainty little finger.

Turning their heads at the sudden sound of a screeching cry, Beth let out a heavy sigh. Only then did Blair notice the bags of exhaustion underneath her eyes. "The baby's awake," Beth announced, though her tone didn't give away how tired she must've felt. She loved that baby girl more than anything and that was the one single thing Blair found herself feeling jealous of. Maternal love was just about as foreign to her as sibling love; her mother had left when she was only four months old, dumping her off on a man who was too busy with his work to be an actual father.

"Want me to take care of it?" Blair offered.

"No, that's okay. Go ahead and talk to Rick. This'll take my mind off Glenn and Maggie," Beth answered softly. She cracked a faltering smile, tightened her ponytail, and nearly jogged in the direction of the cries. Soon enough, the screaming baby fell silent.