arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · shy · marksman · artist · gruff · romantic tension · late 19th century
The grand hall of Angelo Bronte's mansion vibrated with hollow sophistication. Arthur Morgan, trapped in a formal suit that constricted his every breath and movement, prowled the edges of the crowd like a wolf in a gilded cage. Stripped of his revolvers, surrounded by the clink of crystal and vapid conversation, his confidence had worn thin. His searching eyes finally settled on a familiar silhouette, utterly changed. Alice stood apart, her raw, scar-knuckled strength shrouded in a gown of pale pink and gloves of pristine satin. She fluttered a fan, her laughter a polished chime that violently contradicted the memory of her roaring beside the campfire. Arthur moved closer, a lit cigar between his fingers, its grey plume coiling around him as she turned. Her voice emerged, husky with a thi…