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[dum_spiro]

((OOC: Set in The Walking Dead TV canon, spoilers for Season 5, Episode 1. All are welcome, if you're not canon familiar this is a zombie-overtaken version of rural Georgia, outside Atlanta.))

***

[The smoldering, overrun compound that used to be Terminus is left behind as Carol jumps the fence and lets herself out, taking advantage of the heavy blanket flopped over barbed wire that Rick's group must have used. She ignores the screams of those still living and the inhuman growls of walkers as they feed themselves into a frenzy. It might seem cruel of her, if one was blissfully unaware of the goings-on inside those fences just before the flames and rampaging began.]

[A brief glance at the surroundings, assessing the footprints and parted underbrush (she picked up a few tracking skills... here and there... ) and quickly she determines which way they went. Carol was quite serious when she told Tyrese she has no intention of staying, but first she has to find them. Make sure her efforts were worth it and they all got out, and most importantly reunite Rick and Carl with Judith, Sasha with Tyrese. So she goes, stomach churning despite how calm she'd felt while unleashing destruction on Terminus and its twisted population.]

[She hasn't quite let go of the hope that she won't have to leave, but she's prepared to.]

[Her face and hair are caked with red clay, and she's wearing clothing covered in entrails -- not just spatter, but as though she rolled and splashed inside a fresh, open corpse. In one hand is an automatic rifle, in the other a crossbow. She looks like she's been through a brutal war.]

[She has. She won.]

Comments

[dealt_hand]

[These woods are getting mighty crowded all of a sudden. Merle hasn’t been out here much longer than she has, armed with nothing but a filched pistol, grabbed off a dying Termite as he got the hell out of Dodge. It ain’t what he’d prefer, but best laid plans and all that shit. Merle had stayed out of town when everyone went in-- half as a lookout, half because no way in hell was he walking into that place of his own volition. He’d said, once, that the man who came at him calm and smiling with his hands in his pockets, that was the fucker who’d scare him-- and the ruins of the charnel house behind him, well, just goes to show that now and then he knows what he’s talking about.]

[He’d been in the middle of trying to figure out how the fuck to spring everyone, once it’d become clear that all those smiling faces weren’t so friendly underneath, and all he’d managed to do was get himself picked up by patrols. Fucking figures. It’s a miracle, if he still believes in those, that they didn’t stuff him in the freezer right away. Missing his hand and still on the weak side he’s not much good, which is why he’s holed up in the hollow of a tree right now, waiting for the smoke to clear a little before he heads out on his way to look for Daryl and the rest of ‘em. He’d booked it just as soon as he was able when the chaos started, not knowing or caring how or why, just running for freedom like an animal. He ain’t proud, but not like he coulda done much if he’d stayed in town. Rick and his crew-- and Daryl, mostly Daryl in his estimation-- they’re strong enough he trusts them to fight their own way out, he’s just gotta find them.]

[But here we got something else, a walking fucking nightmare dripping gore and carrying his brother’s bow. At a distance and with all that on her, he doesn’t recognize Carol. He just waits, and he lines up his shot-- aiming low, base of the spine, he doesn’t want a kill ‘cos he wants answers, and if they ain’t good ones he wants to make this slow-- but he doesn’t take it. He hides and he waits til she’s close enough and looking the other way, and then he calls out in a tone as sweet as poison:]

Now I know that ain’t yours.

[There better be a damn good reason you got Daryl’s weapon there, stranger.]

[dum_spiro]

[She'd know that creepy voice anywhere, but instinct and reflexes have her raising her rifle as she spins toward it. Maybe she'd have Merle in her sights regardless, given his history. She's not likely to fire unless he threatens her pretty damn explicitly though; for all she knows right now Daryl may never forgive what she did back at the prison, but that doesn't mean she would ever want to hurt him if she had a choice.]

[Her weapon lowers, but she keeps both hands on it.]

I'm bringing it back. [Carol can't say she's shocked that Merle still thinks it's the Dixon brothers against the world, that she'd be stealing Daryl's crossbow while he and the group ran for their lives. On some level she almost understands. Merle doesn't know Daryl anymore, doesn't know what he means to Carol, that she would sooner cut off her own right --]

[...Bad analogy.]

[dealt_hand]

[Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Peletier.]

Well, hell, [he crows, taking the gun off her and lifting his hand with an expression of perfect innocence. Now don’t you be too eager to rid yourself of ol’ Merle, he’s the closest you got to a friend in the vicinity.] Don’t you look nice.

[He might’ve given her the benefit of the doubt if he’d’ve recognized her. Merle’s never quite sure if Daryl’s hanging around her to try and get into her pants or just clutch her apron strings, but you’d have to be a fool not to notice they got something. It might be something he resents on principle ‘cos he doesn’t much like how much attention Daryl wastes on people who aren’t his kin, but it’s there.]

You seen ‘im?

[Daryl. And the rest of their people, whatever. They’re all good friends these days, right?]

[dum_spiro]

[Oh sure, great friends. No hard feelings at all about the Governor or Glenn and Maggie's capture and torture. Although... ironically, right now some of them might consider Merle more a friend than Carol, and she is so keenly aware of it that she could spit acid.]

They came this way. Can't be too far off. [She has no idea how large the group is by now, but she's assuming at least seven or eight, possibly more if they've found other survivors of Terminus to trust. There's no way they're moving fast enough to outrun a single person... assuming she's not waylaid too long dealing with Merle.]

[She shoulders her firearm.] You coming, or what?

[dealt_hand]

[ Officer Friendly might, he tries real hard to pretend Merle is one of them. Most of the rest of them don't know enough to hold what she did against her. He gets up, stifling a cough. ]

Let me get that, [ he says, nodding at the bow. It's as close to being his as hers, no time to argue about the will when they don't know if there's a body. ]

What about the cavalry?

[ She must have seen them, whoever attacked. It'd be good to have a little warning if they've left the all too literal frying pan for the fire. ]

[dum_spiro]

[Carol hesitates, visibly, but in the end she hands over the crossbow. Merle might be a sleaze but he does care about Daryl, and it's unlikely he'd run off with the thing until they find him. So, fine, if it'll get them moving, he can hold the thing.]

No cavalry. [No elaboration as she turns to start walking. It's not that Carol wants to avoid claiming credit for the attack that brought down Terminus, it's that her priority is on taking note of some snapped twigs in the low brush, a few shuffling footprints, to ensure she's still on the right track.]

[Not too distant a second is rising anxiety about the reaction she may get when she finds the people she's seeking. Sure she saved them, but she didn't do it so Rick would allow her back with his group; she did it because, simply, it's what she does for her family. If she ends up on her own after all she still won't regret it because they're alive.]

[Besides, she owes Merle no explanation and he doesn't owe her any thanks.]

[dealt_hand]

[In his absolutely minimal defense, Merle is marginally less of a sleaze than he used to be. Daryl's long since made it clear he ain't gonna budge, and if Merle doesn't want to lose his brother, he's got to play nice. Either way, there's no question about his loyalties in this instance.]

No shit?

[He slings the bow over his back and follows along beside her, keeping his eyes on the trail. He'll pipe up if she makes a wrong turn.]

Now you don't mean to tell me you did all that on your lonesome.

[Spill it, lady, who're you working with? Because he does not believe for a moment that she managed that without help.]

[dum_spiro]

[Is this about to be a debate as to whether Carol had it in her? Because she could really do without one right about now, she's got a stomach full of rocks and a baby to reunite with her father and brother in spite of it.]

[A few steps pass in stony silence before she finally decides, forget it. He'll believe her or he won't, it's not really relevant to why she came here or what she needs to do next.]

Just taking down the gates and some of the guards. [She never really found Rick and Daryl and the others after all, but she knew they'd take care of their own.] And a woman who tried to interrupt. The herd did the rest.

[dealt_hand]

We-ell,

[he drawls, stretching the word and sucking his teeth thoughtfully to punctuate it. Does he believe her? Honest, he's not sure. Could just be. He's got the bad habit of thinking of Carol the way she used to be-- mousy and under her husband's thumb.]

Ain't you just as cold as a witch's tit,

[he mutters, though there's something weirdly complimentary. He's impressed.]

[dum_spiro]

[Merle Dixon, always the classy intellectual. Beyond vague disgust with his simile, Carol is torn between being mildly insulted and mildly proud. She's not regretful of her actions so that prohibits her from feeling upset or particularly pleased about it; all her emotions are somewhere in a thin patch of center because she really had little choice if she wanted those captured to survive.]

[It's just what had to be done. That's how this world works. Of all the things she's done in the last ten days to be ashamed of, devastated over, the death of some murdering cannibals doesn't even make a dent.]

You know what they were doing in there? [Her tone probably doesn't do much to disprove his assessment of her coldness.]

[dealt_hand]

[She's full of surprises. Could just be Carol's snapped, and that's interesting at least. She might not be the mouse she once was but even so, there's a world of difference between growing a backbone and growing the balls to get your hands that dirty. Shit, no one in Rick's group gets their hands that dirty. That's why Merle doesn't fit in.]

Heard enough I'm glad I didn't stick around for dinner.

screw you timeline i do what i want

[weakshallinherit]

[ It was time to move on, at last, to leave behind his fortified encampment up in Kings County, the place he'd laid to rest his wife, his son, laid to rest the entirety of the life he'd once known. He lost himself there, fell into the depths of darkness, trying to find the path he was meant to take, to serve the purpose he was meant to serve. Clear. That was it. He'd been meant to clear. To make things right.

And then Rick had come back - he'd come back, and he knew him. He knew him, and he was there. Not on the radio, not like he promised, but there. Rick had been right in front of him, his face had been there.

And that was the start of it.

The start of a turn in his path, a way back out the other side of what he'd been through, winding its way through the darkness. He spent a long time down there - a long time - and he wasn't out of it yet. But he was far enough he could see again, start to make out the world around him. And it was time to move forward. So here he was, in the woods. He was far from trusting anyone, those signs they'd put up, but he had to give it a look. He had to see.

He'd been lurking on the edges just in time for all hell to break loose. He watches, making his way along the edge, and that's when he spots her. Looks like a walker, really, but with the weaponry...

His mask is still on as he approaches her, his voice reverberating inside of it. He's ready to grab his weapon, but he hasn't yet. Just ready. ]

You come out of that?

[ It's an even tone, booming but unclear as to whether it should really be taken as threatening, exactly. He's just a man looking for information. ]

that's a theme on this post and I love it

[dum_spiro]

[The mask sets Carol on edge just enough to stop her determined walk through the forest, but the irony is not lost: her own appearance is far more menacing. Considering such, and the fact that she's carrying multiple weapons in plan view, she decides to entertain his question. Because those at Terminus were dangerous doesn't mean everyone is, and if things go that way she's sickeningly well-prepared.]

[That she doesn't answer straight away is due only to the wording the stranger uses, the shape of it sticking in her throat. The last ten days are a series of violent emotional lurches in every possible direction, a bad dream that seems to only get worse. She's hesitant to say whether she'll ever "come out of it."]

[But that's not, of course, what he's asking. Carol slowly shakes her head.] Not exactly. I helped some people get out, but I was never in.

best theme tbh

[weakshallinherit]

[ It's not what he's asking, but it would be a valid question in and of itself. He can't know what's happened to her the past couple of weeks, but he knows this world. He knows what it will do to you, maybe better than most do. He hadn't been out in the world quite as long, but the world had gotten into him.

He stands there a moment, nods, and then reaches up - he releases the closure at the bottom of his mask, and he pulls it off to reveal his face. Just a man underneath - nothing notable about him, really. His scars aren't the kind that are carved into flesh. ]

Deliverance from sanctuary.

[ Certainly, the irony on the word 'sanctuary' is apparent. ]

Your people?

[ It didn't escape him that she said "some people." That's a very different thing. ]

[dum_spiro]

"Yes," she says, with such certainty that you'd think she had something to prove. Maybe they don't all consider Carol one of theirs anymore, but she considers them hers. Family isn't something you can move in and out of as the tides turn.

"Your people?" This man doesn't necessarily seem like he's been in a group, he has that look in his eyes of someone who isn't used to dealing with others... however. For all she knows, the psychopaths running Terminus could have had dozens of people in there, in whatever state. It's not impossible that he was looking for someone, and Carol has sympathy for that, in principle. At least until he gives her reason to stop.

[weakshallinherit]

There, he just shakes his head. He had his people, sure, had Jenny and Duane, still had Duane when Rick came through... but after Rick moved on to Atlanta, there hadn't been many more. None of them stuck around long enough to be their people, just passed on through and off into oblivion. They'd take up one of the houses, hunker down, maybe share introductions or a few cautious conversations but, bit by bit, each house was left, some of them burnt and some just stood as rotting husks of the world that was. And once it was just Morgan, well. He hadn't really been one to let people in for some time.

"Don't have any people. Not anymore."

Somewhere out there might still be those faces he knows, Rick and his boy, the woman that had been with him. Maybe they're still alive. More likely, he thinks, they're not. Nobody lasts long these days, just slipping away around him.

"Every one of them, just-- It's just me. Been on the road."

[dum_spiro]

Carol nods and then says, quietly, "I'm sorry." It's the kind of thing that is understood nowadays but still bears saying aloud, if you ask her. That there isn't anyone left who hasn't lost practically everything doesn't mean she shouldn't be sorry about it.

She shifts the shoulder strap of her rifle, too laden with weapons to carry them comfortably. "You headed anywhere in particular?"

Should she ask him to come with her? Such decisions are risky of course, but so is trusting no one. Look how the people of Terminus turned out.

[weakshallinherit]

He just nods in acknowledgement. She's sure to have her losses, too, he knows, probably more than he's got if she's let other people in. That was the thing he didn't do, the thing that had kept him isolated for so long. You don't reach out, you don't let them in, you just focus and you clear.

"Where my path takes me. I don't know where it's going."

He looks past her then, into the distance, some lingering remnant of the darkness he'd descended into clouding his gaze for a moment.

"There was a man out here. I knew him. I saw him again, he came back. It was months ago he was there, I don't know how many now. Couldn't keep track anymore. I don't know where he's gone. I don't know if he's gone."

The apparent repetition, of course, is in fact two distinct sayings - a matter of location and a matter of survival. Rick had mentioned the prison, but Morgan saw it on his way. That prison wasn't holding anything living anymore.

[dum_spiro]

Perhaps its a testament to their mutual experience with isolation that Carol bothers trying to follow that. Perhaps that's how Carol would sound if hers had been anything resembling a long stretch of time. This man's been on his own for months, and survived... but not entirely intact, mentally.

"Maybe he isn't. Not everyone's gone." Even though it seems like that sometimes.

Carol looks the man over again, he's not all there but he's not the kind of crazy she found at Terminus, that seems obvious. Much ado as they make about the tug-of-war of whether to trust someone, let them in, the reality is that all you can do is follow your gut, take a chance and hope for the best.

"We could look together."

[weakshallinherit]

Not intact, but closer to it now. Months ago, he'd never have moved. He'd never have approached her. He'd certainly never have taken off his mask or managed to get out a few sentences of relatively coherent conversation.

Still, there's that broken look that lingers. At length, his eyes shift back to her and focus again, and he appears to have come back from... wherever he just was. He couldn't tell you if you asked, there aren't words for the places he's gone. They aren't even places. The silence draws on as he studies her a moment, which likely feels longer than it is.

And then he shifts his head back, before he gives one slow and careful nod.

"Morgan."

Which is a start. Not quite an extension of trust, but an indication that he'll consider it. That he's trying to hold onto this, this relative coherence. That he knows he can't just be alone anymore.

[dum_spiro]

That's all she expected; honestly if someone seems a little too trusting, too eager, she'd consider them dangerous. For all the people of Terminus were wrong and deserved what they got, the principle of not trusting strangers is a good one. But that's where it should stop unless you're threatened.

"Carol." She smiles thinly, her replacement of the social niceties that used to accompany introductions. "I was headed that way." She nods in the direction she was walking when they came upon each other. Since Morgan seems to have no place in particular to go, if she understood his words right (which is by no means a given).

HOW ABOUT WE HAVE A LITTLE TIMESKIP

[gotadamnmouth]

[It's really been a hell of a week. Or has it been more than a week? Fuck, it's impossible to really keep track of things like time anymore. Point is, ever since Brian's attempt at taking over the prison, things have been hell, and Tara never really got a chance to stop and think before she was uprooted from one group and dumped into another.

Well. Maybe that's not the best choice of words. Tara is still an outsider. Doesn't quite fit in with Abraham's trio or the survivors of Glenn's group. She's sure that not everyone knows who she is, but Glenn knows. And she's pretty sure she saw a spark of recognition in the sheriff's eyes. Which is why it was so utterly shocking that she had been given a gun and told to take first watch with the gore-covered woman that night while some of them caught up on sleep. These people trusted her with a gun...

But hey. She had no intentions of taking advantage of that. She wanted to prove that she wasn't like those other members of Brian's militia... and protecting these people while they were at their most vulnerable was a great starting point for that.

So, after circling the perimeter of the flimsy little shack they had holed up in for the night, Tara eventually makes her way over to where Carol was, and sits down next to her. Not... not too close, but close enough so that she doesn't have to raise her voice to talk.]

Hey.

SURE why not?

[dum_spiro]

[Tara isn't the only one who is tentative about her exact fit in this group. Rick's embrace went a long way, but Carol can't be entirely sure she's forgiven, or trusted, and she hasn't had to delve into Lizzy and Mika just yet. Bringing Judith back may have helped too, though that wasn't her reason for helping Tyrese do so. She's through contemplating it for now, having exhausted her patience for unanswerable questions and preferring to focus on keeping everyone safe, including the people she doesn't know. Rick and Daryl kept them around after escaping Terminus, so Carol's protectiveness extends to them unquestionably.]

[For that reason, Carol smiles more-or-less amicably when Tara sits nearby -- it's fatigue that keeps it from veering toward the 'more' side. It's been a rough ten days, but then, she can't imagine this woman's had it easy, either. Since when had anyone?] Hey. Tara, right? [She heard Glenn say that name at some point.]

[gotadamnmouth]

Yeah.

[Okay.... okay. So Glenn talked about her. And that makes her nervous. True, he didn't tell Maggie, or Sasha and Bob, about her involvement with Brian's group when he introduced her to them... but they were kind of in a situation then. Now that they had time to breathe... that's when Tara started worrying.

But it looks like her worrying was pointless.... for now at least. So she just nods.]

And you're... lemme guess. Rambo?

[She ain't getting that image of Carol covered in blood and gore and lugging around a bunch of weapons out of her head anytime soon, nope.]

[dum_spiro]

[Carol cracks a smile. She can imagine how she must've looked to a stranger.] Only when my people are in danger. Otherwise, it's Carol.

[Her words are in no way meant as a threat -- she's smiling, casual as she can be while on watch -- but if Tara interprets them as extreme protectiveness all the better. Anyone still living would understand the importance of that particular feeling.]