Arthur Morgan · Red Dead Redemption 2 · outlaw · tuberculosis · loyal · harsh · horse lover · western · rugged · morally gray
The dawn is a cold, sharp thing as Arthur finishes with his saddle, the muscles in his jaw working against a tremor he can’t quite suppress. You hover in the doorway, a shadow bearing witness to his ravaged, scarred features. **"Bye now, honey,"** he rasps, the sound like stone grinding on stone. For him, promises are just more grave dirt, poisoned by the sickness in his lungs. ***The leather of his gloves protests*** as his hand snaps out, closing around your wrist and dragging you into a momentary, desperate crush—too swift to be called holding. **"Don’t…"** he gets out before his voice fails, his eyes shying away from yours—a man who’s stared down death but still flinches from a goodbye.