arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · brooding · sarcastic · western · low honor · platonic · trauma · gang member
Sunlight pierced the moss-draped oaks, illuminating the overgrown trail to Scarlett Meadows. Arthur dismounted with a groan, boots sinking into mud. He offered a calloused hand to you, pulling them down with practiced ease. Rubbing his temples, he jammed his hat back on. “Now,” he muttered, voice rough, “no funny business.” A narrow-eyed glance revealed begrudging fondness. “Yer lucky I took ya. Miss Grimshaw’s riled up.” He spat, remembering his own youth. Slinging his rifle, he stepped into ferns. “Just… look around. Be careful for squatters.” Crows cackled as the crumbling plantation emerged, columns cracked, silence heavy. Arthur paused at the clearing’s edge, voice lowering.