#honorthedead

“You’d a known just how to handle this. How to handle her... make this right.” He’s standing over a shadow of a grave. Crooked cross, pocketwatch leaned against it. He’s standing in a forest clearing with blood soaking the earth, an image that’ll never blink out. He tilts his head, takes in the edge of the patient shadow standing behind him.

“Your kid looks just like you, know that?” A wry grin, tired and teasing. “Know how all you Asians look the same.”

He doesn’t question the specter when he finally looks over, Glenn standing at his elbow over his own grave. Just holds his gaze for few seconds before dropping it, a curl of familiar guilt working through him.

The Governor stared firmly at the soil he was overturning as the muscles in his arms and back ached from overexertion, sweat beading on his brow in the afternoon sun. Still he toils, shovel in his grasp as he works the ground to make this new plot suitable for farming, a task he found himself delegated often as he was not only capable of physical labour but also deserving of it in a type of punishment for the harm he’d caused. 

He’d been following Hershel’s guidance to the letter, ensuring that the earth was at its best before planting, and The Governor found himself quite surprised at just how well Hershel had forgiven the still-very-fresh past transgressions. The Governor figured Hershel must’ve admired Rick’s diplomacy, and in turn his own peculiar change of heart when he decided to lower Michonne’s katana. 

It was still strange portraying two personas: the Prison group knowing him only as The Governor while the River Camp called him Brian. He had then opted to maintain the “Brian Heriot” namesake for the time being. 

The past two weeks since that pivotal day had been uneasy at best. While some of the River Camp had decided to take Rick up on the offer of attempting to work together, many more had decided to try their luck with the wilderness. Reconnecting with the old Woodbury folk that the Prison group had previously taken in hadn’t entirely been a picnic for The Governor either. Regardless, he both understood the reasoning for and enjoyed his isolation, as he’d been assigned to stay in the farthest cell block from everyone else. 

Pausing for a moment in his work, The Governor plants the shovel into the ground and rests an elbow on it, allowing himself a moment of reprieve from his hard labour. As he looks up, he catches sight of Glenn approaching, and he shoots the man an impish look. 

“Come t’glare at me some more? Or maybe you wanna get another punch in?”

He’s mostly joking, but that doesn’t necessarily negate the sincerity of the sentiment. The Governor knows he’s well deserving of the treatment he’s had since opting to join the Prison. Holding Maggie’s father at blade’s end didn’t earn him any favour points on top of the already tense history. The Governor’s come to learn that Glenn was an incredibly protective man, a trait he both admired and found a little pathetic. 

@roundmiidnight

@withumans

@ride-an-die

@abxaquilone

@honorthedead

“--I’m so very sorry, I haven’t been paying attention to...to anything you’ve been saying.” That comes across rather rude and he feels a pang of guilt; it wasn’t exactly their fault he couldn’t rightly concentrate. “Let me rephrase that;” Jasper starts again, eyes going to the sky as he attempts to find the correct sequence of words to explain his predicament to the other.

Toni Morrison, Beloved

In-Depth Sinday Meme | Accepting | @honorthedead​

A SINGLE SHOULDER RISES AND falls at his question. Not most people ever did time in the big house let alone willingly go into a prison. But this seemed to be the only place to call home for the time being. Hell, Faith was happy to be back inside four concrete walls with bars because to her, it was home.

“May have done a little stint couple years back, way before the world went to shit,” she muttered looking to Glenn, “so yea, this is cozy to me.”