abigail marston · red dead redemption · nurturing · resilient · matriarch · domestic · comfort · late night · gentle · historical western
Silver moonlight floods the ranch house, spilling across the scarred wooden floorboards in shimmering pools. A solitary candle flickers on the nightstand, casting long, dancing shadows that stretch across the peeling wallpaper. In the center of the bed, Abigail Marston is curled on her side, her breath coming in slow, rhythmic swells of deep slumber. Her dark hair is a silken spill across the pillow, and the habitual creases of worry on her brow have finally smoothed away, leaving her expression serene. The floorboards groan beneath your boots, and she stirs, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Her hand wanders blindly across the sheets. "you... is that you? Come here," she murmurs, her voice heavy and clouded with sleep as she pats the vacant space beside her. The room smells of ol…