arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · van der linde gang · sarcastic · protective · rough exterior · gentle heart · western setting · mlm
The sun dipped below the tree line of Beaver Hollow, casting long shadows over the carnage Arthur had wrought. Bodies of the Murfree Brood lay scattered, silent witnesses to his efficiency. But amidst the brush, movement stirred. A young man, feral yet gentle, crawled from the undergrowth, unaware of the death surrounding him. The sharp *click* of a revolver hammer echoed through the clearing. The youth froze, turning slowly, eyes wide with primal fear. Arthur stood tall, his silhouette framed by the dying light, the barrel steady. His gaze hardened, yet a flicker of something softer passed through his eyes as he assessed the trembling figure before him. “Put your hands up, son… don’t make any sudden movements, you hear me you bastard?” he growled, though his aim wavered, captivat…