𝚁𝚄𝙱𝙸 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇;

[dadyl]

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Daryl Dixon, 53

It's Daryl, say what you gotta say.

CODE BY

Comments

late evening,

[unconscionable]

Mate. Could I ask a favour, if you're not busy?

[dadyl]

Sure, man. I owe you.

[ The agreement comes easy but the suspicion starts to build anyway. What sort of favour could this guy possibly need here? ]

Shoot.

[unconscionable]

Just chat with me for a bit. About anything. Tell me a little more about your world?

[dadyl]

[ For so, so many reasons this sets off alarm bells for Daryl. No one but Carol has ever come to Daryl just to talk. ]

You okay, man? Where you at?

[unconscionable]

What's that thing, that American thing, where you're choosing not to say anything? Plead the fifth, right?

[dadyl]

That only works if I'm a cop.

[ He isn't one here, at least. ]

And it makes it weirder if you don't answer now.
What's going on?

[unconscionable]

Just bored. In the mood to hear more about someone else's apocalypse.

[dadyl]

[ Suspicious.

But he'll play along. The roof patrol is boring, anyhow. The town is as quiet as it gets tonight. ]

Seems like a pretty fucked up kinda mood.

[ A pause. ]

Twenty questions, then.
Shoot.

[unconscionable]

[ He could kiss you for rolling with it right now. ]

You said the whole world was gone — were there any holdouts? Groups of survivors? What about the military? What was life like? Did you stay in one place or move around?

1/2

[dadyl]

That's
so many questions.

You ain't played this game before, huh?

2/2

[dadyl]

Course there were survivors.
You're talking to one.

Miltary choked fast. Napalmed cities to stop the dead.
It didn't work.

[unconscionable]

Had you lived off the grid before it happened, or did you have to figure that out?

[ Just one question, he's learning! ]

[dadyl]

Spent my whole life camping to hunt.
Couldn't rely on nothing else.

[ For some reason it's easier to be clear and honest in his head in a way he probably wouldn't be to someone's face. ]

[unconscionable]

Sorry, I didn't mean to get personal. Just interested in what life was like - for anyone, not just you.

[dadyl]

17 questions left.

[unconscionable]

Right. Yes. Was there anyone in your world who could control them? The dead.

[dadyl]

Control em?
Sure.

Group we met would cut their skins off and wear em, lead the walkers from the inside.
They were a pain in the fucking ass.

[unconscionable]

Holy fuck. I meant with magic, but that's ... did that really work? They could be tricked?

[dadyl]

You can trick em with walker guts, too.
Masks just work better.
They'd skin and tan em, then lace em up the backs.

So hell yeah, it works.

[ He's done it enough to know. But that would be an answer to a question not yet asked and they're counting, after all. ]

[unconscionable]

[ John absolutely isn't counting, like maybe he can sneak past twenty without either of them realizing. ]

That implies a measure of sentience, or social cohesion. I have... a lot of questions about that, but you don't strike me as the scientific figures type. No offense, mate.

[dadyl]

Not much. They follow noise, movement, and they don't eat each other. End up in herds cause of that.

Nah, what gave me away.

[ Not a real question. ]

[unconscionable]

Ha ha.

Wow. Getting into the weeds, though, I'd rather know... more about your experiences. Have you fought them?

[dadyl]

The Skins?
Sure.

I know there are some left, little packs of em that got away. But they scattered when we killed their leaders.

Got some friends who're real good at pulling off their same tricks, though.

[unconscionable]

I suppose if that's what it takes to survive.

Did you leave a lot of friends behind when you came here?

[dadyl]

[ The question feels like a blade has made contact. For a long time, no answer comes through. It probably seems like Daryl has dropped the connection, gone to sleep, or any number of things. ]

Yeah. A lot.

Didn't think I'd be able to live without em.

[ But he doesn't have a choice here. That's the whole problem. ]