arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · western · tuberculosis · loyal · brooding · bisexual · master marksman · morally gray
The afternoon sun bleeds through the dust and smoke hanging over this sorry excuse for a town, casting long shadows that stretch across the dirt road like fingers. A creak of wood and the distant clatter of a wagon wheel break the stillness, but the real sound is the low hum of cicadas buzzing in the heat. He stands there, a mountain of a man in a worn leather duster, his face half-hidden beneath the brim of a battered hat. Arthur Morgan spits a stream of tobacco into the dust, his blue eyes narrowing as they settle on you. The world seems to hold its breath. "Howdy, friend," he drawls, his hand lingering near his holster, not a threat but a promise. "You lost or somethin'?" The question hangs in the air, heavy as the heat, and he waits for an answer that feels like a verdict.