tempted to ask for one of the dirty prompts but to spite myself, how about 23?
CARYL pls
Hey there nonny, here you go <3
23. vintage
It was the cabin all over again.
Carol felt the tension between them wrap around her spine like a taut string as they walked inside the dilapidated building to camp out for the night. It was the first time they were alone. Really alone. Without people muttering around them in French with questioning glances, and suspicious prying eyes following their every move. Daryl hadn't left her side since they reunited a few days ago â he simply clasped her hand and led her inside without a word to his French companions.
They'd held each other so desperately when she found him - his face was pressed into the crook of her neck, his fingers dug deep welts in her jacket, and his arms clutched her so close that she felt his heaving breaths right down to the tips of her toes.
His warmth lingered on her perpetually as she kept finding ridiculous excuses to touch him. She felt ashamed of her weakness, but losing him for all this time had made her fear worse. So her arms lingered on his sides when he checked her after a fight; she leaned into him as they walked, brushed against his fingers when she handed him his crossbow, or traced his face every time she checked his head wound and watched him stare at her lips longingly.
Even though everything ached at that look.
Her tears blurred her vision when his eyes roamed her face every spare moment they had together. He'd hesitate for a long moment before brushing them with his thumbs, and pressing his forehead to hers until it was time to keep moving again.
But the deep yearning for each other's warmth had evaporated into thin air the moment they were on this path by themselves. Reality kicked in as days passed, and she saw how different he looked here, how at ease he was with the terrain and the people.
It reminded her of the days after the cabin when she didn't know exactly where she fit into his life. As the distance between them grew, and his hesitance to approach her got stronger â an unexpected spark of sadness followed her.
They found a large, empty room in the building for the night. The floors were crusted marble, an old charred fireplace against a wall with a stack of wood that looked untouched for years, and a rusty bronze chandelier covered in cobwebs smashed in the corner. The walls were all crooked chunks of brick and plaster cracked away with time. Two long windows on either side of the fireplace filtered the dying light in the room.
She turned her back to him and removed her gun, coat, and jacket. There was a rustle of fabric behind her as he did the same. She unrolled their bedrolls and sat with her back against the wall as he knelt down and lit a fire. He reached into his pocket to draw a box of matches when a tiny brown wooden box fell out, rolled across the floor, and clattered against her right foot.
Carol lifted it to find a crude etching of a flower on top of it, she turned it in her hand as he stoked the flames. He chewed his lip and looked at the box, then back up at her. His hair was soft gold in the firelight with threads of silver peeking through it.
"What's this?" The box rattled as she turned it upside down.
"Open it." He sat with his back against the wall, a few feet away from her.
The box unscrewed, and sitting inside was a tarnished silver Jasper ring. It looked about a hundred years old, with soft ochre and black spots forming around the knots on the sides, the crevices, and the rim of the dotted silver bubbles around the textured green Jasper stone in the middle.
"A ring?" Carol furrowed her brow.
"It's a Jasper ring." Daryl's voice was soft, taking her back to another time when he'd used it to tell her a story. "Heard a long time ago that Jasper helps give you the courage to face hardships and strengthens bonds between loved ones that are gone."
She traced the knots on either side of the ring. "Celtic knots," Daryl moved closer and tentatively touched one. "That there is a love knot, a sign of love shared between two people."
Their eyes locked for one searing moment, his eyes lingering on her lips, tears glistening on his lashes. His lips were chapped and dry, he swiped them with his tongue before looking down at his hands. Carol turned back to the ring.
The Jasper stone was a gradient of streaked green and bright points of soft yellow patterns, like a constellation etched in stone. Its shine had dulled over the years, it looked like it had weathered quite a few storms. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her as she twirled the ring.
"It's beautiful."
"Yeah."
She turned and saw him gazing at her softly.
"Found it in this antique shop I was camping in one night when I was alone in the early days." He leaned his head back on the wall. "Reminded me of that ring you used to wear back at the Commonwealth â the one you lost after the battle."
"Is that why you kept this ring?" Carol hated how small her voice sounded.
He nodded, "It gave me hope."
She searched his eyes quietly even though she knew he was telling the truth.
"Dunno why but I thought for as long as I held on to it, you wouldn't forget me. Let me go." Daryl's eyes were pleading. "So when I saw you again, I could give it to you."
"I'm never going to forget you, Daryl."
His exhale trembled out of him, and his eyes glistened.
Carol wiped her tears and looked down at the ring. "Why didn't you give it to me?" The words cracked around the edges.
"Didn't think you'd want it anymore."
She looked back at him. His fringe covered his face and his fingers twitched in his lap. Carol held the ring out, Daryl accepted it quietly. She locked eyes with him and held out her hand. His eyes widened briefly, and shone in the moonlight as he searched her face. She smiled at him softly, and he placed the ring on her finger.
Leaning her head on his shoulder, she swayed her hand to catch the moonlight on the yellow specks of the Jasper stone. She turned to look at his watery blue eyes to find him staring at her longingly.
"What do you think?"
Daryl's lips quirked up, "It suits ya," he said without looking away from her.
Carol's smile wilted into the raw longing she'd felt when she thought she would never find him again. She caressed his jaw and she let herself see him â all of him beneath the thin veneer he'd donned to survive in this strange land.
Her resolve cracked and tears spilled anew when Daryl made a tiny whimpering sound in the back of his throat and pressed his forehead against hers. He turned his face into her palm and pressed his lips to it, then pulled her closer so she could rest her head on his chest. A few moments later, his breathing turned into soft snores, and the raw longing she felt escaped through her lips before she could stop it.
"Should've gone to New Mexico..."
The silence that followed made the fire crackle louder. The Jasper stone glinted in its light. Carol fisted her fingers in his shirt, nuzzling into his chest and letting her tears soak into his skin as he slept.
"It's still out there." Daryl's chest rumbled beneath her ear. She looked up.
"Yeah?" Carol's voice trembled.
"Yeah." Daryl's voice was firm.
His thumb grazed her cheek and caught her tears, his hand wrapped over the ring and held onto her hers tightly.
He kissed the crown of her head, and she nuzzled back into his chest and pressed a kiss to his skin. His arms engulfed her until she was surrounded by him. Daryl. His breath tangling in her hair, his heart thrumming in her ear, his skin grazing her lips, his warmth lulling her to sleep, and his ring wrapped around her heart.
Hope was not lost.
