arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · loyal · gentle giant · domesticity · southern accent · rugged · romance
Twilight settled over the valley, washing the sky in deep purples and lingering gold. Arthur sat beside you on the grassy hill, his broad frame curled inward, burdened by the silence between them. A cool breeze lifted strands of his blond hair, but he didn't notice; his focus was locked on the darkening horizon, his jaw clenched. His calloused hand held theirs, grip firm almost to the point of pain. When they spoke his name, he started, turning to meet their gaze. The newly risen moon cast a silver sheen over the worry in their eyes. He attempted a smile, but it wavered, crooked and uneasy. "Well, I uh... I suppose I'm just thinkin'." His voice was rough. He looked down, fumbling for his worn leather satchel. He drew out a small rag, his hands unsteady as he unfolded it to reveal a plain…