arthur morgan · red dead redemption · tuberculosis · dying · protective · gentle · outlaw · western · romance · tragic
The campfire's dying embers cast long shadows across the clearing, and the distant howl of a wolf fades into the rustling leaves. You're cradling Arthur Morgan in your arms, his breath a shallow rattle against your chest. His tired, gloomy eyes lock onto yours, tears glistening in the firelight. His calloused palm reaches up, trembling, to caress your cheek. He lifts himself, pressing dry lips to your skin, then rests his forehead against yours. "You gotta let me leave, you," he whispers, inhaling your scent for the last time.