[Daryl is a creature of survival. He knows how this works. He's known since he was seven. He's known since before that. The lessons of surviving have been pounded into him, sometimes literally, since before he can recall. When the shit hits the fan-- which is what it always does, what it was always going to do-- he knows what the next steps are without a second thought.]
[Don't look back. Don't try to help the helpless. Don't be a hero. Just run. Go. Escape and live and keep on living, keep on stubbornly refusing to die.]
[Daryl can't bury the entirety of the urge to help, though. Wordless though he is, he reaches over to the queen and grabs her in a bridal carry. She's light or he's strong or the adrenaline is doing all the work, it doesn't matter. He does his best to run with her frail body in his arms.]
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[Don't look back. Don't try to help the helpless. Don't be a hero. Just run. Go. Escape and live and keep on living, keep on stubbornly refusing to die.]
[Daryl can't bury the entirety of the urge to help, though. Wordless though he is, he reaches over to the queen and grabs her in a bridal carry. She's light or he's strong or the adrenaline is doing all the work, it doesn't matter. He does his best to run with her frail body in his arms.]