A/N: So… this is my entry for the Caryl fanfiction contest hosted by tumblr's uss-caryl! It ends May 4th, 2013 so I decided to try my hand. I've been dabbling in TWD fanfiction (all at least subtly Caryl, of course) for some time now, but this will be the first published piece. It's also my first time ever entering a fanfiction contest. Eeeee! So nervous!

The contest stipulations were that the story must take place in the prison watchtower. I had to include a shoebox, toothbrush, purple scarf and a rubber duck somewhere in the story and the phrase "deer are [fucking] majestic" had to be included as well.

Here goes nothing! Wish me luck!

EDIT: I won! I won the contest! YAHOO! Anyway, I'll stop bragging, but maybe this'll be a tad more of an incentive to keep you here, no?

Nebulae

Written by Amputation aka tumblr's captainqueernerd

Sometimes she wondered what it was really worth. Was there really any point anymore? The world was decaying, crumbling to dust. The earth still carried on, as though it was unaware of the plight covering its' surface, spinning on its axis without a real purpose. Post apocalyptic and falling to pieces, there was hardly a day gone by that didn't carry the groans of the dead and the stench of putrid flesh on the wind. You got used to it after a while; she hardly noticed anymore. It was like a cruel joke, like God had put forth a new plague to fester and corrupt all his creatures had known. But that couldn't be why the world was poisoned. She wanted to believe in her God, to believe in a Heaven. After all, where else would her Sophia be if not by her Lord's side? Rotting in the ground? Forgotten like the shoebox time capsule they'd buried together for her baby girl's school project? It tore her apart inside to think so negatively, but it was getting harder and harder to believe.

Her breath escaped her lips in a puff of mist. She watched with pale blue eyes, tracing the path the billowing silvery cloud took before evanescing into nothingness. Winter was almost upon them again, and if there was one thing she was grateful for in this godforsaken world, it was that they had shelter this time around. The prison was cold—a tomb, as he'd called it—but with all the people inside, it was bound to be warmer. Memories of near death and frostbite of last winter sent shudders down her spine, but she resisted the irrational spike of cold even as it dug into her flesh. Her eyes fluttered closed, dark lashes ghosting against paling, angular cheekbones. Things were changing. People were changing. Their group had changed, irrevocably. Her fingers clenched the soft lavender wool about her throat, a gift from one of the older women displaced from Woodbury.

It seemed as though ages had passed since the failed siege on the prison, since Axel's brain matter had spattered across her face, the lingering reflection of his smile milliseconds before the shot scorched onto her brain. She forced her eyes open, shifting the heavy Remington on her shoulder. Another puff of hot breath escaped her lips, misting as it mingled with the chilled, Georgian autumn air. Their group had grown despite the losses they'd suffered. Despite the death, it still seemed life fought to sprout up. Another baby had been born in early autumn, when the leaves were just beginning to fall. Hershel and the nice nurse from Woodbury had almost lost the mother in the birthing. It was funny how the end of the world made you realize the luxuries so often taken for granted, like hospitals. Hell, almost even simpler things were taken for granted. What she'd do for a toothbrush and a hot shower! If she was feeling exceptionally dreamy, she craved a bubble bath complete with those little rubber duckies, just like she used to do for Sophia when she was a toddler. A smile teased her lips at the bittersweet memories as she turned her eyes out over the starry night sky.

She'd hadn't really taken the time to appreciate the night sky since she was young, still in grade school, really. Her grandfather had been fascinated by the stars, telling her the fanciful myths and stories about the constellations and what they'd meant, how to chart your way by the map of space. She pulled her black coat tighter around herself, shivering slightly in the cold. Her eyes traced the memorable patterns amongst the blinking supernovas, feeling their presence like an old embrace. It was familiar, warm, and she let the nostalgia smother her skin like a comforting blanket. She leaned against a window of the watchtower, pressing fingers into the frigid glass as her breath left hot moisture on the panes. She felt like she was ten years old again, wide eyed and transfixed by the sparkling lights in the sky; the decay of the world around her long forgotten. That was how he'd found her.

"Carol," the gruff tenor pulled her from her childlike wonder, roughly tethering her feet back to the dying earth.

"D-Daryl," she breathed, surprise evident in her wispy mezzo soprano as she whirled to face him, one hand clutching the Remington's strap as it dug into her shoulder.

He stared at her, surprisingly delicate brows furrowed and his thin lips pursed. It had taken a year, but she knew every one of his expressions and the countless possible meanings. She almost smiled. He was trying to understand why she seemed so startled by him. They'd grown close over the last winter, and even closer in the prison. He'd stopped being so jumpy around her, and she him. She knew the rest of their original group speculated about their relationship, but she didn't think it was something she could just define. There really wasn't a word to describe what they shared.

"You okay?" he murmured, the concern buried beneath the veil of his brusque Georgian drawl.

She managed a smile at him, relaxing immediately with the gesture, "I'm fine. Is my watch up already?"

He jerked his head in affirmation, even allowing a grunt of confirmation to slip from his lips. Her smile widened briefly. Even after all this time, the resident crossbow-toting hunter was still not one for words. Not even with her. But she certainly didn't mind, after all, he wouldn't be himself otherwise. Her long silence prompted a squinty-eyed look from her companion.

"I'm sorry, I lost track of time," she replied to his unspoken question, "I was tracin' the stars."

To anyone who didn't know the volatile man, the subtle questioning head tilt would have gone unnoticed, but Carol caught the near imperceptible gesture.

"The constellations, you know of them?"

He jerked his chin upwards, steel blue meeting sky blue before he dropped his gaze from hers. She almost smiled. Of course he knew of them; he was a tracker. He'd have to know how to follow the stars back home. She gestured slowly for him to join her, finally allowing that smile to cross her lips as she turned her gaze back up to the night sky. No words needed to be spoken between them and moments later she felt the heat of his body from beneath that ratty poncho as it caressed her skin like the warmest of suede duvets. It was comforting.

"I was admiring Sagittarius before you startled me," she quietly admitted, her fingers splaying against the frosty glass, "the archer." Her pale eyes slid over to him standing beside her, silently admiring his striking profile. She followed his steely gaze to the constellation she'd mentioned. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest at the beauty of the stars reflecting in his darkened eyes.

Daryl's lips quirked ever so slightly, "Why're ya' lookin' at that one?"

"I happen to have a fondness for archers. Is that a problem?" she quipped, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as a smirk quirked her lips. It broadened when he snorted his amusement, star speckled eyes sparkling.

"Ursa major is particularly noticeable tonight," she murmured as her eyes rested upon the familiar constellation. She felt her lips part as that childlike wonder took hold of her heart, gazing up at the beautiful nebulas dotting the black sky.

He didn't reply to her statement, but she felt his eyes on her, hotter than flame against her skin. He did that a lot, she came to realize. He seemed to find comfort in gazing at her, so she never questioned it. She didn't mind being a soothing aide for ache of losing Merle, the pain was still so raw, so fresh for the hunter and her heart cried for him. She knew how it felt to lose precious family. She was no fan of Merle Dixon, but that man had genuinely cared for his little brother, regardless of his callous exterior. Daryl had damn near worshiped the man. She took her lower lip between her teeth, worrying the chapped flesh until it split. She didn't want to dampen her good mood on things she could not control. Licking away the iron taste that dotted her damaged lips, she gazed back up into the sky.

"My favorite subject in school was history, you know," she revealed quietly, finding sanctity in the silence of the evening chill.

He didn't reply, but she didn't expect him to. He knew she had more to say; he always knew.

"I had a particular fondness for the Greek gods and goddesses. My favorite was always Artemis. She was my idol for a very long time," she said, curling her fingers against the cold glass, "She was the goddess of the moon, goddess of the hunt. She was wild and beautiful. She was a free spirit; nothing could hold her down. I wanted to be just like her…" she trailed off, and the silence in the watchtower was heavy. She chuckled bitterly, shattering the quiet like ice and murmuring to herself, "Funny how things work out."

She could feel Daryl's eyes burning into her again, scrutinizing and curious. He could tell something was wrong, but she knew he had no idea what to do. It was always obvious that the younger Dixon had no skill in comforting the upset, but by God did he try. Unbidden, memories of those Cherokee roses bloomed in her mind. She couldn't help the soft smile from gracing her lips.

"Artemis received a gift from Hermes, her brother. Hunting dogs of the highest pedigree," she continued, pointing back to the night, "they're in the sky now. Canes Venatici."

She glanced at him and his steel blue eyes followed her finger towards the constellation.

"Of course, they're not really Artemis' hunting dogs, but I still like to pretend they are."

His gaze found hers in the silence of the night, and between them were a thousand words unspoken. Feelings yet undiscovered, revelations still veiled. Hopes and dreams, future plans and tomorrow's imaginations. All passed between their eyes in that long, lingering moment they held one another's stare until finally, like a sudden flash of lightning they both looked away. Silence reigned supreme, and although the air was heavy with what-ifs and thousand possibilities, they were comfortable. Time passed; it was impossible to know how long they stood side by side in silence before it was broken by the most unlikely of sources.

"I always thought her animal was th' deer."

Carol glanced at Daryl, her lips quirking ever so slightly, "They are one of her many animal affinities, actually."

He grunted his approval, jerking his head slightly and growling out, "Good. Deer're fuckin' majestic."

Her bubbly, airy laughter filled the watchtower and an elusive smile crossed his lips.

Please, fellow Carylers, tell me your thoughts and offer your suggestions! I adore reviews and I accept anonymous ones, so please! Fire them my way!