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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[ lviii. the oldest lie in the book ]
october 14th, 2012
➸➸➸
ASTRID ENTERED THEHISTORIC, opulent study slowly, and the grandeur of the room seemed to shrink in the wake of her muddy footsteps upon spotless wooden floorboards. Gregory's head snapped towards her. She held his gaze unflinchingly as she addressed him.
"Gregory."
A sly smile stretched across the Hilltop Colony leader's face as he gracefully rose from behind his long, mahogany desk and extended a hand toward her. "Carmen, right?" He ventured.
She corrected him sharply. "It's Astrid."
Gregory's hand lingered momentarily in the space between them before ultimately retracting. "It was close," He insisted.
"Not at all," She smoothly returned.
Gregory's dry and awkward smile persisted, revealing the deep-set creases on his forehead and cheeks. He was old, Astrid inwardly considered. "She calls them as she sees them," He remarked. He motioned for her to come closer. "Come in. Let's chat."
As she stepped further into the study, Astrid glanced briefly at the vastness of the room. A large portrait of a golden stallion above an ancient fireplace drew her gaze to the far edge of the study. On either side, the walls were decorated so heavily with rows upon rows of old, nearly forgotten books.
Running her fingers over the book spines, Astrid was interrupted by Gregory's throat clearing behind her. "I came to this place once before, when it was a museum—this Chamber of Commerce thing," He explained. He followed her gaze towards the wall of art. "I loved that painting. I never figured it'd be mine, but here it is. It was like it was waiting for me the whole time."
As his tale drifted off, Astrid peered over her shoulder, finding his intense stare fixed upon her. The overpowering scent of his cologne seemed to creep across the plush rugs, crawl across her skin and invade her senses. But nevertheless, she forced a smile and feigned interest in his history before finally settling into a chair before his grand desk.
Gregory lowered himself into a larger chair across from her. "So," He began, "Jesus told me your group saved Doctor Harlan Carson."
"We did," Astrid confirmed, nodding. "My husband did."
Curiosity flickered in the old man's beady eyes. "Who's your husband?"
"His name's Daryl," She answered. "He was the one with the vest."
"And the bad attitude?" Gregory grinned. A small laugh escaped him as he added, "I'm only joking."
Astrid's glare deepened, her lips pressing together, and she responded with a muted, "Funny."
