IVORY | CARL GRIMES |
"you don't know what to believe anymore, do you? your whole life, after this, this thing has overtaken the world, you've been desperately attempting to find some sort of peace with what has happened, but you haven't, and it sca...
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"get your ass up."
saskia lazily threw her head back over the top of the patched couch, letting her neck roll over and across her shoulder. she had been trying to take a nap, exhausted with planting under maggie's careful supervision for the majority of the morning. the woman's resilience infected saskia's melancholy, disrupting her earlier desire to remain in bed all morning.
she was still testing the new air between the two of them. it felt so much like a renewing spring breeze to saskia but the lingering chill of winter was unwilling to surrender. she chose to ruminate on her definition of a caretaker, making a list of the qualities she expected in her own mother. somehow, everything was different about maggie. despite the overwhelming nature of such thoughts, they excited her.
"and if i don't want to?" saskia retorted with just as much attitude as daryl had thrown her way.
daryl squinted his eyes at her with his heart skipping a beat for half a second, wondering if he had chosen the wrong approach. after a moment's consideration, he chose to understand saskia's response as a byproduct of facing an irritable teenager. but, he also saw the frustration overpowering the grief in her eyes, shadowing any remaining light.
"c'mon, don't be smart," his gruff voice detailed, beckoning her towards him with a wave of his hand before turning around to uphold a carefully crafted air of indifference.
the patience he offered her was greater than what he gave most. even if she expected it as his weird way of comfort, saskia was not about to directly refuse it. from the first day she met him, saskia learned quickly that it would be foolish to test daryl dixon's patience.
saskia complied without any further exasperation. she respected his offer to help her in what she thought of as the only he knew how. distractions. if she thought back to her first few days spent with the group in a corner of the forests of virginia, she could remember how easy it was for her to recognize daryl's character. his quiet temperance darkened by forged intimidation clearly used to ward off unnecessary interactions struck her. she recalled her feeling of relief. at least one person existed that she could ensure would not approach her in such a vulnerable state.
she planted the soles of her combat boots on the dusty hardwood floors and with her hands on her thighs, promptly stood up. daryl gave her a nod, valuing her submission and ignoring her frown. he figured carl's condition inspired her rather pessimistic body language.
it was the chips in the top of the worn leather on her boots that were really bothering her. the small things always had been the spark of saskia's powder keg. maybe the upheaval of alexandria provided the fine-grained explosive but the world's continuous bringing of small misfortunes felt like cruel and unusual punishment.
