Hello, all. I love the Walking Dead, and thought I'd give writing for it a shot. I'm not going to be grandiose and say that 'this isn't going to be like every Daryl/OC story out there'. I just hope you find it enjoyable and well-written. To that end: Constructive criticism is always welcome, hiding behind anonymous reviews says more about you than about my abilities, and if you have suggestions please let me know.
I own nothing but my original character.
Spring in Georgia waltzes in like a debutant, all white gloves and pretty pink hues. By the time the summer really gets going, it is more like the tired waitress at a busy all-night diner: sticky, smelly, and far too busy and hot to be concerned about appearances. The breeze did nothing to quell the unrelenting sun's rays or the pressing dampness of the humid air, making Seraphim feel as if she were breathing her own sweat.
She had only come into the city to hit the sporting goods store for some supplies, but thought she would check to see what she could find as far as clothing and supplementary food was concerned. Hunting was good, with squirrels and rabbits being plentiful, so she wasn't all that worried about sustaining herself. One person was easy to feed, after all, and Seraphim wasn't what anyone would call picky. The hunting section of her first stop yielded some much-needed ammo for both of her guns and her two bows along with some other things that she had come to look at as essential. The combination sun screen and bug repellant was doing its job, and for that she was grateful. Exceedingly pale skin and late July sun just didn't mingle well.
It had been relatively uneventful as far as a trip into the city went, with only three walkers bumping into displays at the store and two following her in the street until she put them down. Seraphim caught sight of the four men as they made their way down an alley and swung up onto a nearby fire escape to observe them. While she did not know them, Seraphim saw no reason not to provide some unknown backup. Even so, she was well aware that they could present a problem to her if they caused too much noise with so many walkers around or thought they could take advantage of her.
Minutes after they entered the store, she heard shouting from the roof and rolled her eyes. "Way to be stealthy there, guys."
The thick paint coating the metal rungs of her perch had begun to puff and peal, and Seraphim imagined she could hear it crackle in the too-bright summer heat while she waited to see where the men would go when they left the store. They had come from the west, though that did little to indicate any future movement. Why would a group of men come into an infested city only to stop at one department store when there were far more useful locations a block away? A low moan drew her eyes to the sidewalk a story below, and Seraphim realized that she was drawing some unwanted attention from some of the city's less living inhabitants.
The man stretching his arms above his head toward her seated form had once been an attractive firefighter. His white and red uniform shirt had been torn to shreds revealing massive arms and the remnants of a truly impressive set of pectorals. One suspender held his heavy fireproof pants in place on narrow hips. Seraphim found herself sighing as she realized that he looked like some sort of zombie parody of a romance novel cover.
"It figures that it'd take an apocalypse for a good looking, well-built man to reach for me." Seraphim scoffed and moved to stand as more former people noticed her and the firefighter starting moaning and bumping into the side of the building. "Fuck off, Sparky. I ain't in the mood."
Reaching the roof took twice as long as normal, as the packs she carried weighed her down quite a bit. Far from winded, she couldn't help but flex just a bit and smirk. "Crossfit, bitches."
Catching a flash of movement across the street, she realized it was the back of one of the men moving down the alley. If they were heading back to the west, she was free to move to the north and back to the woods. As the back of the building was walker free, Seraphim easily exited the roof and checked her weapons before readying her long handled hatchet. She began making her way along the shaded, quiet backstreet. The slight shift of boots on concrete drew her attention, and she swung around a corner into a cross alley ready to take out whatever walkers she could.
The sight of a shotgun aimed at her face left her momentarily nonplused. The large black man holding the weapon was one she saw earlier, but why was he here and not with the others? "Who're you?"
"Who the hell are you?!" The man's eyes creased in anger and confusion while a slender man in a deputy sheriff's uniform appeared over his shoulder.
Before she could answer, the muffled sounds of shouting bounced off the buildings. A glance passed between the men, and then they were running in the direction of their friends. Seraphim threaded her hatchet into its loop on her belt before running to catch up, pulling her crossbow from over her shoulder as she moved. In this new world, she was decidedly Team Human and wasn't going to leave these inept men to fend for themselves.
The scene she jogged into was interesting, if not slightly confusing. The man with the crossbow was shouting at a Hispanic teenager while the others pulled him away. Seeing the gate blocking any walkers from the head of the alley, Seraphim swiveled to watch the other end. "You boys take your time, I got this end!"
"Who the hell is this bitch?!" The rough accent of a true boy from the south rumbled down her spine, and Seraphim didn't bother to fight a smile.
"Seraphim O'Roarke from up Dawsonville way." As she spoke, Seraphim put an arrow through the eye of a walker slowly making its way toward them. She cast a quick glance around the corner as she retrieved her used bolt. "Unless you guys want to start shooting, we need to find us an elsewhere to be."
The Andy Griffith wannabe saw the three corpses shambling past her recent kill and ordered everyone into the building. Seraphim let them push the mumbling boy through the window before she followed suit. She only had to take out one of the now nine approaching creepers between tossing her packs through the opening. Pulling herself through the window, she came nose to arrow with the business end of a rather impressive crossbow.
"Nice," moving slowly, the woman slowly put her weapons on the nearby table. "Is that a Horton?"
"Shut up." Her captor glowered at her, his brow only slightly raising at the sight of her full quiver and the crossbow she pulled from her back to join the knives, hatchet, and various firearms already resting on the table.
"Daryl," the man in the cop uniform came to stand beside the brawny hunter. "She had our back out there, and we have bigger problems."
"How'd we know she ain't with them?"
A hostile voice sounded from the other side of the room. "She look like someone who would roll with us, bruja?"
Seraphim didn't take her eyes off the immediate threat in front of her while she smirked. "I bet you don't have the balls to call him that in English."
"What'd he call me?"
"Take the weapon off me, and I'll tell you." Seraphim blinked innocently in the cop's direction. "I just followed you because I heard the shouting and thought I could help. No offense, but I'm not in the mood for so much damn bitching and drama."
With an inelegant snort, the officer ordered Daryl to lower the weapon. "I'm Rick Grimes. This is Daryl, there's T-Dog, and our missing friend is Glenn."
"Can I have my stuff back?" Seraphim hadn't wanted to assume she wouldn't be shot for taking her possessions back, but hated being unarmed. At Daryl's nod, she began feeding things back into holsters and loops.
Daryl's voice was gruff and low when he joined her at the table while glaring at the boy across the room. "What'd the little asshole call me?"
"He called you a bitch."
"Son of a whore!" Daryl pointed menacingly across the room at the man before turning his scowl back to Seraphim. "You date a Spic or somethin'? You're whiter than Casper."
"Nah, took two years of it back in high school. Can't 'member most of it, but I still remember some of the curse words."
Daryl managed a smirk before he went to talk with their captive. Seraphim had a feeling it wasn't going to be nearly as calm as their little discussion. Rick managed to keep the peace, however, and they soon knew where they had to go.