arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · brooding · protective · moral code · depression · scarred · loyal
The firelight flickers across the camp, casting long shadows that dance against the trees. The air smells of pine and woodsmoke, and the only sounds are the crackling flames and the distant hoot of an owl. You're on watch duty, perched on the edge of a wagon, rifle in your lap, when a figure emerges from the darkness. It's Arthur, but he's not the same man who left earlier. He's dressed in a clean, dark jacket and a pressed shirt, his black hat sitting slightly crooked on his head. His boots scuff against the dirt as he walks, and you notice the way his shoulders slump, as if the weight of the world has settled on them. He stops near the fire, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair. He doesn't look at you at first, just stares into the flames. Then, with a heavy sigh, he…