alexandria is quiet for now, but the gunsmith knows better than to let that be a comfort. it’s a gift as well as a curse. a gift in that she can think in peace, a curse in that —— if there was someone lurking, she didn’t know. eyes shut for a moment, breathing stalled as she clips in a piece to the weapon she worked on. alex is tired, beyond exhausted and yet she persists. it’s not a good thing to be up this late, but she can’t pull herself away. the silence is broken by distinct footsteps, they’re familiar and carry weight. she tries not to laugh but she doesn’t face them, she can see the figure reflected in the metal.  ❛  ——— rick,  ❜  she smirks a bit, head shaking slightly,  ❛  shouldn’t  you  be  asleep ?  ❜  //  @thleadr: sc.

                 hands   raise,  palms out towards the gates as eyes below furrowed brow glance towards the sky.  fingers twitch and   shaky breath   pushes past parted lips.       she calls out,  voice wavering and   unsure.          ❛   i-------- i don’t have any other weapons !    ❜           her weapon,  a single handgun with no bullets inside of it,  tossed into the dirt in front of her feet.   she squints above the   wall,   in a feeble attempt to   see    who she was talking to.

    ❝Those things out there...are they sick?❞ Her daddy told her that they were sick, that the people in the barn were SICK but it didn’t feel right. 

         “Rick....” There’s relief and warmth in his tone as he greets the other leader. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Paul has been up and around for awhile since obtaining his injury. Still mourning their losses, but that might still be a while yet before they can move on. Such a devastating hit to Hilltop can be felt for light years. His family. His people. All lost in such a brutal inhumane way. Now despite all the hardships they are still trying to make their way through the world and Paul is feeling well enough to get around, even if his arm is still fairly strapped to his chest so not to jostle too much. “i’m glad to see you though. It’s been awhile.” 

“When I was out there, I heard something.” It sounded far fetched and hard to believe, but he was certain that he hadn’t been imagining it. “Whispering. From them.” Carl’s one-eyed gaze met his father’s and he sighed softly. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you tomorrow. They won’t be hard to find.” The hoard of them had been making rounds, as if seeking them out and making plans.

☣.•°*  THLEADR ┆ “ sc

      ❛   𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬   𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥   𝐨𝐮𝐭   𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 .      andrea’s  still  alive  and  we   know   that  she  is .   she’s  trying  to  make  things  better  for  everyone,   for  woodbury   and   the  prison .   both  sides  have   killed   at  this  point,   been  attacked,   𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞   𝐚𝐥𝐥   𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭   𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞,   but  we  have  a  chance  to   end  that .   we  don’t  have  to   live  together,   but  we  can   work  with  them .   ❜

fear  blooms,   flush’d  lip  pools  scarlet  at  his  incessant  gnawing,  a  blemish  of  red  wine  upon  white  sheets:  a  habit  acquired  in  hastened  heartbeat,  in  questioned  nerve.  pleading  with  the  monarch  would  prove  fruitless,  spencer  knew.  he  recalled  the  moment  his  mother  exiled  previous  residents,  the  knowledge  that  both  would  waltz  into  the  palms  of  death  irked  him  so.   it  was  his  turn.    ❝  but  ----  ❞  fickle  chime  is  foreign  to  spencer,  he  scarcely  recognises  own  voice.  he’s  sickly,  made  discernible  by  the  pallor  of  sunken  flesh.  he’d  surely  die,  but  perhaps  he  deserved  such  a  tragedy  writ.  ❝  this  place...  it’s  all  i  know...  ❞