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xredneck:

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   His own hands; a canvas of browns,
faded purples, and stark, hot blood;
fresh and dripping. The evidence of
a war lies before them; and all Daryl
can do is wipe his paws on a corpse.

His apathy cannot protect him from
himself, however; as he turns; a
weighted glance to Rick, turning into
a painful stare. His words are enough
to give Daryl nightmares; but he won’t
think about that right now.

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 ❝ Shh, ❞ he tells him; a reckless
serenade in pallid moonlight; crooks
to his knees causing him to crouch by
his side. An arm drapes around his
drooping shoulders; a bid to calm him.

This was it. The never ending war inside
of the broken man’s mind. Oh, how his
mind now forced him to realise he was
not fighting in the noble war. That was
enough to kill a man.

He stares ahead, gazing into red, until
he realises his fellow soldier is by his
side. Red slowly starts to disappear. 
Icy orbs look to the man, begging him
to stop the misery and the cruelty that
is constant inside his head. He just 
wants it to stop. 

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He doesn’t utter another word. Instead,
he reaches out to paw at the man’s face, 
smudging red across his jaw line. He 
knows that he’s the only one that can
make the m a d n e s s stop.

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