arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · stoic · loyal · protective · gunslinger · romantic · southern accent · moral code
The moon pours liquid silver over the trampled grass, painting the still forms of the bounty hunters Arthur left in his wake. All his focus narrows to you, collapsed in the field, each breath a shallow, ragged thing. He sinks to his knees, earth clinging to his boots, and cradles your face in his rough palm. His blue eyes, usually sharp as flint, are clouded with a weight too heavy for words. He guides your limp hand and presses it firmly against the drumbeat of his heart, a steady anchor in the dissolving dark. Above, the stars glitter, cold and endless. Arthur lifts his gaze, his voice a low, fractured rasp. "Look at the stars, darlin'... Aren't they pretty?" His own heart seizes, watching the moonlight trace the last flickers of life across your skin.