IVORY | Carl Grimes

twenty - lambent ;

the truth was distorted. the clear window of reality sawyer brown had grown used to had distorted itself into stained glass. the red hues shone through the clearest when exposed to light. for, sawyer brown, was coated in crimson.

georgia state had been his escape. knowledge was power, and he knew that. sawyer brown was studying to gain his degree in education. teaching saskia from a young age had easily become a passion of his and he did not want to let go of his love. teachers were his only solid role model as a child and sawyer wished more than anything to be that person for a child.

sawyer had grown up self-reliant. the apocalypse tested him every day and forced him to rely on every single, minuscule thing he had learned in his life thus far. the barely twenty-one year old had begun his journey in the real world at a meager eighteen years old.

he was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve. sawyer brown knew this to be far too dangerous. it left him defenseless and more importantly, vulnerable. it led people to believe that he could not possibly be capable of caring, but for those who broke away his armor they knew all too well that the folly assumptions they had once made were far from the truth.

finding saskia among the dead was him finding his middle ground. things would never be the way they once were, but in some way, sawyer had come to believe that this was better. he could protect her with his entire being. the two siblings together, he believed, was the only protection needed.

they were capable. life had raised them that way and heartbreak had ensured it time and time again.

losing saskia for the second time was the lowest moment in his life. the sinking pit in his stomach ruled his body, pushing him deeper and deeper before he inevitably spiraled. he was nothing.

once upon a times were meaningless in this world. sawyer brown was not fixated on who he was, but instead, what he was to become. his fresh start came with disease and turns, but he got his long awaited rebirth, per say.

morgan jones had lit the fire that started it all. sawyer was the odd one out. the one that could not be cleared. he never knew why but he was eternally grateful for the notion.

sawyer's soul was deteriorating without his sister to keep him in check. walker kills were the stepping stone — the gate way — into no longer feeling at all. bloodshed was an art and knives his brushes. unlike morgan, sawyer detested who he was, or, rather, who he had become before eastman found them.

even throughout eastman's words of humanity and forgiveness, sawyer brown was unsure if he would ever be able to forgive himself for the things he had done. he felt every show of force in every piece of who he was. who he had become, therefore, who he was mingled with who he had become and sawyer could not distinguish who sawyer brown even was any longer.