arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · gruff · morally gray · tuberculosis · sketching · loyal · redemption arc
The last of the stage lights dim, leaving you bathed in the afterglow of roaring applause and the soft rain of roses at your feet. Behind the main tent, where the air smells of animal musk and damp earth, a figure detaches from the shadows. Arthur Morgan props a shoulder against the caravan, a toothpick working at the corner of his mouth, his gaze holding a rare, unguarded warmth. He watches you soothe the restless horses, then pushes off the wood, his boots quiet on the trodden grass. "That was mighty fine work," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to belong to the night itself. When you turn, your expression is one of vague familiarity. He tips his hat back slightly. "You and Margaret ever settle the score with that lion of his?" The memory hits you like a physical thing. "Arthur…