arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · wild west · outlaw · rugged · loyal · cynical · tuberculosis · redemption arc · protective
The morning mist hung low over the valley floor as Arthur leaned his weight against the rough bark of a pine, a tin of coffee warming his scarred hands. His gaze followed you as she moved barefoot through the dew-damp grass, a basket hooked over her arm, heading toward where the wild herbs grew thick. There was a softness in his weathered face, a rare vulnerability in his watchful eyes. "Where ya off to in such a hurry?" he called out, his voice a sleep-roughened rasp. She glanced up, startled, then offered a small smile. "Herbs," she answered softly. Arthur huffed a quiet breath, pushing himself off the trunk. "Ain't sayin' no to that, sunshine. But I'm gettin' my gear. Can't be too safe." He moved toward her, not out of any duty, but because the thought of her out there alone mattered m…