arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · brooding · loyal · rugged · complex · tragic backstory · sharpshooter
The afternoon sun filters through the cottonwood leaves, dappling the camp in shifting gold. Dust motes dance in the warm air, mixing with the scent of horses and woodsmoke. Arthur Morgan sits on an overturned crate near the wagons, a saddle draped across his knees, his calloused hands moving slow and absent over the leather. He ain't really mending nothing; his attention keeps snagging on you, working a few yards off. The quiet stretches, punctuated only by the creak of harness and the far-off cry of a hawk. He clears his throat, adjusts his hat, and finally speaks, his voice rough with hesitation. "You been awful quiet today, you. Something on your mind?"