twenty

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— 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬
( 𝘈 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘋. )

THE BATTLE HAD ENDED, and the living had won

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THE BATTLE HAD ENDED, and the living had won. As the storm settled and the dead were defeated, Murphy's mind became muddled with the adrenaline and exhaustion that ensued. The night was a blur, and she fell into a deep sleep at some point, as did the others. Her dreams were plagued with memories of the past - memories of the outbreak and the bloodshed that followed. They were nightmares, but she slept through them nonetheless. Her body couldn't surrender the rest.

Beams of light streamed through the cracks between the boards. Murphy felt her eyes flutter open and her vision brighten. She let out a sigh as she shifted in her spot, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. As she did so, a heavy item fell off her shoulders and onto the ground below. She took it in her hands, feeling the leather material. Wings were embroidered to the back. It was Daryl's vest. He had draped it over her for whatever warmth it could bring. Her fingers traced the angelic item of clothing, a smile gracing her lips.

Murphy raised her head and took a look around the barn. The others were asleep. Judith squirmed in Rick's arms beside her, and she smiled sadly. She glanced around the room, and noticed two figures sitting across the room, their backs against the wall. It was Daryl and Maggie, deep in conversation about what Murphy could only assume was Beth. She knew better than to interrupt. She draped Daryl's vest over her forearm and stood, brushing the dirt from her side and placing the gun that sat beside her in its holster.

Maggie stood from her spot as well, holding a jewelry box in her grasp. Her eyes locked with Murphy's and she gestured to the barn doors with her head. She wanted her to follow. Murphy held up her pointer finger to imply that she'd be there in a second. She carefully stepped over the sleeping figures of her comrades, silently as not to disturb them. She made her way over to Daryl, who sat with his knees to his chest, his elbows propped on them with his hand near his mouth. Murphy stopped before him, her feet kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Daryl's eyes rose to meet hers, and she took the vest from the crook of his arm and held it in front of him, "Thanks."

Daryl took it gently from her grasp, laying his arm over across his knee. His cheeks tinted pink ever so slightly, "'S nothin'."

Murphy chuckled, smiling at the ground. She felt her face warm and she stepped back, "Maggie and I are going out."

Daryl nodded, rubbing his chin with his thumb and pointer finger, keeping eye contact, "You be careful."

Murphy scoffed, nudging his foot with her own, a smile gracing her lips, "I always am. Now, get some sleep."

With that, she turned, sending him a quick look over her shoulder as she followed Maggie and Sasha to the barn doors. Daryl watched her receding figure, his vest in his hands. He stared at the item of clothing he'd owned for as long as he could remember, which now symbolized something new. He peered at it uncertainly, before folding it up and setting it on the ground as a sort of pillow. He adjusted himself and laid his head atop it, hoping to get some rest.

𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧, daryl dixonWhere stories live. Discover now