OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ xi. a breath too late ]
june 25th, 2012
➸➸➸
IN THE WARMLY LIT dining room of the sheltering house, Astrid Lancaster sat at the worn wooden table the next day, her bruised fingers clutching yet another small bowl of dry cereal. She was living off of it at this point. Sitting opposite her, Carl, with a mop of unruly hair and a bowl of his own, shared in the quietude. Yet, it was a peaceful silence that enveloped them, punctuated only by the occasional crunch of cereal between their teeth. Beyond the dining room's boundaries, Rick and Michonne were elsewhere, but never too far from reach.
Then, as if on cue, Michonne strolled into the room. Her long, graceful fingers were currently buttoning up a new, long-sleeved, white-pressed shirt—a top that could have easily belonged to a corporate executive in the world before the apocalypse. The incongruity did not go unnoticed.
Carl apparently shared Astrid's unspoken thoughts and burst into laughter. The sound was like a long-forgotten melody, a rare moment of genuine joy that had become a distant memory. Astrid could not resist the infectious sound, her own bubbling up in response.
Michonne, initially eyeing them with a hint of suspicion, could not hold back her smile any longer. "Do either of you have something to say about my extremely comfortable and attractive shirt?" She teased lightheartedly.
"No, it looks great," Carl insisted, his laughter still echoing, while Astrid's eyes sparkled as she smiled into her cereal bowl.
Michonne gracefully took a seat beside Astrid at the table. As she poured herself a bowl of cereal, a wistful sigh escaped her lips. "I wish we had some soy milk."
Astrid wrinkled her nose. "I hate milk."
Carl and Michonne exchanged incredulous glances. "What?" The younger of the two gasped. "How can you hate milk?"
Astrid looked at Carl with an arched eyebrow. "Ever accidentally taken a sip of sour milk?" She countered, her voice imbued with the memories of unpleasant experiences. When the boy shook his head, she continued, "That'll change your opinion on milk quicker than you can say it. Ever since I was ten years old, I've hated the stuff. The end of the world isn't going to change my mind on that."
Carl paused, digesting her words along with his cereal. Meanwhile, Michonne interjected with a chuckle, "You'd like soy milk."
"Soy milk is gross," Carl declared.
"Have you ever tried it?" Michonne prodded, her eyes shining with a touch of mischief.
Carl smiled widely as he began to recount a childhood memory, "My best friend in third grade was allergic to dairy. So, every day, he would bring this soy stuff to lunch," He reminisced. "One day, I tried it."
