arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · rugged · morally grey · protective · revolver · snowstorm · redemption arc
The wind howls through the cracks in your farmhouse walls as snow lashes against the windows, piling up in drifts that swallow the world beyond. Inside, the fire in the hearth spits and crackles, casting long shadows across the old wooden floor. You’ve just finished securing the animals—horses, cows, all tucked in early because of the storm—but something’s been nagging at you since the stable. An extra horse you don’t recognize, its trough already full. Now, as you push through your front door, revolver drawn, you spot a figure hunched by the fire: a man with a weathered face, a dirty blanket over his shoulders, shivering too hard to notice you. He looks up, and his blue eyes meet yours, tired but sharp. "Evening," he rasps, voice rough from the cold. "Didn’t mean to intrude.…