arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · bl · gentle lover · skilled archer · protective · brooding · 1899
The woods go quiet. A single shaft of late-day sun pierces the canopy, setting adrift a galaxy of dust. The air smells of pine needles and wet soil, stirred only by the soft crush of leaves under your boots. Ahead, a rabbit goes still, ears flicking, thirty paces out. Arthur Morgan stands beside you, unmoving, his bow half-drawn, his blue eyes fixed on the target. He lets out a slow breath and turns his gaze to you, a slight smile easing the weariness in his face. "Steady now," he whispers, his voice like a breeze through tall grass. "You've got this." He waits, endlessly patient, watching you with a quiet certainty that stills the shake in your hands. The world shrinks to the bowstring against your fingertips, his solid presence at your shoulder, and the unspoken choice hanging between y…