The fuck are you?

[His voice is loud in the relative silence of the room. Waking up in an unfamiliar location is something he hasn't had to deal with since long before the world ended. Even hungover, head pounding and mouth dry, he'd been aware. The CDC, the shack, every crackhouse that Merle had dragged him to- For a guy like him, it's that awareness of his surrounding that'd let him survive this long.

So waking up in bed with a complete stranger, in a room he's never seen before? There's only one way he can react to it, and that's with complete anger.]

Beth. Get your ass out here.

[Because if she doesn't, this stranger has a whole lot to answer for.

-----

Later that day, with a full stomach and a stolen kitchen knife in hand, Daryl starts to scour the building for answers. Each seemingly empty room he makes his way in to is cleared, before useful items are lifted and stored in his pack. People are given a wider berth at first. But as the day progresses, he does eventually keep the knife lowered. Even ends up tucking it into a makeshift sheath at his hip. Because the more he hears from those around him, the more he comes to realize that this whole place is a prison. And he's definitely not the only inmate trapped here.

Also-]

We're in England?

[For a guy whose never left Georgia before, that might be the weirdest part about it all.]

[The call of the hunt had been impossible to ignore. Perhaps it's simply because of who he is and the life he's lived. Or perhaps the chocolate he's still licking off his fingertips could be entirely to blame. But whatever it is, Daryl inevitably finds himself browsing the array of tools, fingers tracing a coil of dark rope, a leather collar with thick buckles. Ways to capture, contain, control. And it's only a matter of time before he puts them both in to use.

He's been the tracker of the group, the hunter. But those skills are thrown aside the moment he's unleashed. He doesn't need to follow any footprints, doesn't have to seek out broken twigs or slushy ground. Instead, it's simply a flare of his nostrils, as narrowed look, and he's on the move. Is speeding through a setting he's long called home, even before his arrival here. And as he finally catches a flash of movement in the distance, he knows he's found his prey. Knows that there's no escaping him now. He won't let them.

A grow, canines causing a burst of copper to flow across his tongue, and Daryl finally makes his move. Finally breaks his cover to take his quarry down.]

[With the sheer amount of time he's spent outside already, the draw of the forest already feels natural to him. Had reared its head the moment he first caught sight of those trees out of the window of the manor. But while he'd purposely avoided spending too much time out there after dark- he'd like to find a weapon or ten before he does that -tonight, that concern is easily set aside. Is ignored entirely as he makes his way into the cool night air.

And even as he finds himself at the altar, as his clothes are removed and scars are bared for all to see, he can't bring himself to care. To react with anything more than curiosity as his gaze moves across the people gathered nearby.

(Later, of course, he'll hate it all. Will let his anger boil and grow. Will unleash it on those around him and not care who gets caught in the crossfire. But right now-)

Blue eyes lock on to a Maiden. Fingers wrap around a throat to tug them in for a kiss. A claim.

They're his, and it's time to make that clear for all to see.]

Canonpoint is post 4x13 - Alone, after having his nap in the coffin. So post the prison falling, and pre him losing Beth/finding any of the others. Time to panic!!! Beyond these prompts, Daryl will generally be found either wandering the building and stealing supplies, or outside stalking the grounds/hunting/trying to get the hell out of here.

Also, for anyone not canon familiar, I guess I should also warn that all TWD characters are infected by an airborne virus called Wildfire. This means that when they die, they turn in to the walking dead roll credits aka Walkers. So...sorry, Saltburnt, but there could be a problem on the horizon one day.