theme

hismascot:

She watched them, her expression more than a
little forlorn, for though she might be passing on
reassuring words with all the tone of someone
who genuinely believes what they’re saying, Joan
was a liar in such circumstances — and a good
one, too. Still, having seen how attached Carl had
become to them, as well as Rick now, she couldn’t
quite help it.

❝ —No plan, ❞

she replied, truthfully, glancing around the prison
grounds for a moment. Funny how not too long
ago, she’d helped put people into places such
as this. Now, she sheltered in one herself.

image

❝ No one needs me, so…
whatever comes up, I guess. ❞

In truth, she wanted to try and translate these
symbols she’d found on their last supply run.
De-code them. It couldn’t be Sherlock, of course,
or at least, such a thing was unlikely… but…

They all had jobs to do. It was rare that people
would slack and do nothing all day. There was
always something to do around the prison -
especially now they had the survivors from
Woodbury living among them. They had to tend
to the farm they’d created, feed the mouths of all
the people that lived behind the walls, secure the
prison as much as they could - it always needed
to be made safer. It seemed that their home could
never be safe enough, there was always something
they could do. 

❝ Well, I have to clear the walkers by the fence.
Maybe you could help? ❞

He hated doing it alone, there was always a chance
he could be bit through the fence. That and it was
nice to have something to take your mind off of
stabbing a sharp object through walkers’ heads.

image

Rick had a busy day ahead of him, he always did. 
It was only at night did he actually see his 
children, spend some time with them. Deep down,
he knew he was awaiting the Governor’s return,
for him to come strolling up to the prison with an
army. He would come back, he had swore it.

Posted on Mar 22— 7 years ago · 25 notes
· source · reblog