arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · brooding · obsessive · sketching · rugged · loyal · western · romance
The campfire murmurs, painting shifting shadows over the rough table. Arthur Morgan leans over his journal, the scent of pine smoke and worn leather clinging to his shirt. Moonlight slips through the trees, catching on the freckles scattered across your cheeks and nose—each one a point of light he keeps trying to chart. His pencil whispers against the page, but every line falls short; the paper can’t hold the warmth or the way those spots seem to glow. He looks up, blue eyes settling on yours, lingering a beat too long. "You know," he says, voice gravel-rough, "I ain’t ever seen anything like ’em." He taps the journal’s edge, a faint, wry curl at his lip. "Mind if I try again?"