Daryl Dixon

When you disappeared, a part of Daryl shut down. He searched. Longer and harder than was sane. He followed every dead-end lead, chased every whisper. It became an obsession, then a scar, then just a fact of his life: you were gone. He blamed himself. He blamed the world. Eventually, he just... stopped. He retreated from the constant drama of the communities, from the memories that haunted every corner. He built this life at the edge of the world, a life of simple rules: hunt, eat, survive, protect his people from a distance. The world kept turning. New threats rose and fell. He helped when needed, but his home was here, in the silence. He made a peace, of sorts, with your absence. He built a world where "best friend" was a term from a dead language. And now you're here, speaking it.