↳ that's how human's are, ashes to ashes...
oc x daryl dixon
season 4 - ?
TW: Depression, thoughts of suicide, use of drugs/alcohol, use of tobacco, detailed gore, use of weapons, death, and mentions/suggestions of assault.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own...
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Devon exhaled slowly, the thought of breathing fresh air seemingly now foreign to her after spending hours on end in a boxcar thinking that the sunlight would never hit her face again. And then immediately following their escape, her only breaths were consumed with thick, black smoke from the burning buildings of Terminus. Yet, there she was, standing with her feet firmly planted in the decomposing fall leaves and letting the sunlight blast her cold cheeks.
She watched as Rick dug into the soil beneath them for the weapons and supplies they had hidden when they originally arrived at Terminus, and she found her body eagerly awaiting the comfort of her backpack and the weight of the meager supplies and belongings inside. She felt like only half of herself without her father's bow and sheath, which of course, had been earlier stripped from her possession and remained in the now smoldering remnants of Terminus. She could sense that Daryl felt the same way with the absence of his crossbow by the way he was becoming ever more restless as he swayed anxiously about.
Devon decided that Daryl's comment from a few days before was becoming increasingly more accurate to her: a bow man is always a bow man. Without hers, she felt like a shell of herself - a worthless creature who could never dream of defending herself. Her bow - the very extension of her own arm - was now out of reach, and without it, she felt so confused.
She pondered this as Rick and the others argued about what needed to be done next; if they needed to turn around and take out what was left of the cannibals who had tried to mercilessly kill them, or keep going on their merry ways. Of course, she had little interest in fighting if she didn't have her own weapon back, but also realized that returning to the fiery remans where they were just being held captive would give her a chance to find it again. Then again, moving on seemed like the safe choice.
A bow was replaceable, but her life wasn't.
Instead, she just stared at her shoes and remained silent as the others spoke their minds to Rick. They had much more confidence backing their demands - confidence she had yet to achieve with any of the nearby strangers - but they seemingly felt quite comfortable with their unspoken leader.
Devon watched Daryl lift his head from the corner of her eye, and then repeated the same action when she saw a woman covered in filth walking in between the skeletal tree trunks of the forest in their direction. Her face was caked with brown mud around her shortly shorn, grayish hair, and she was seemingly carrying some pretty serious weaponry in her hands.
She wondered why nobody was startled - why nobody was reacting to this newcomer and raising their guns to be pointed at her - but a reaction did occur when Daryl dropped his arm from where he was leaning up against a tree beside Devon and took off running in the direction of the woman. They met in an embrace and Devon watched for a moment, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to look at Rick, and saw a smile brushing his lips. He took a few steps forward, as did some of the others, but Devon was not sure how to react to this new stranger. She had already met so many people she hadn't known just a day before, that another addition nearly made her head spin.
