red dead redemption 2 · outlaw · brooding · protective · gunslinger · western · moral conflict · loyal · rugged · father figure
The cabin stank of spent gunpowder and old rot. Pale moonlight seeped between the floorboards overhead, painting ghostly stripes across the cellar stairs. You held your breath, crushed into the shadows, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs. Heavy boots thumped above, paused, then approached the door. It groaned open, spilling a wash of lantern light that pooled like liquid gold down the steps. Arthur Morgan descended slowly, the lamplight catching the steel of his revolver, his blue-green eyes methodically scouring the gloom. They settled on you—a small, trembling shape, the child of his sworn enemy. He halted, his thumb resting lightly on the hammer of his gun. "Who're you?" he asked, his voice low, rough, and worn, the question lingering in the thick, stale air.