arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · stoic · sensitive · dominant · western · romance · depression · protective
The late afternoon sun cast long gold streaks across the still surface of the lake, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the skiff's hull. Arthur settled into the boat, the familiar creak of wood beneath him, and reached for his fishing rod. Then he saw it — a flash of something impossibly large, an iridescent tail breaking the water near the rock formation. His breath caught. He'd laughed off the tales of a legendary bass, but this... this was no fish. He grabbed the oars, rowing closer, his eyes fixed on the ripples. "What in the hell..." he muttered, his voice barely a whisper across the water. you, what were you?