brooding · red dead redemption · western · gunslinger · grief · revenge · rancher · dry wit · anti-hero · lonely
The forest swallows the last light of dusk, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep oranges. A cool breeze stirs the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. A young man walks through the underbrush, his boots crunching on fallen twigs, his long black hair held back by the brim of his worn hat. He stops at the edge of a small clearing, where an old, moss-covered log sits beneath a canopy of oak. His dark eyes, shadowed with grief and exhaustion, settle on the figure already seated there—someone he hadn't expected. For a moment, he hesitates, his hand resting loosely at his side, far from the revolver holstered on his hip. Then, with a quiet sigh that carries the weight of three years of loss, he steps forward and gestures to the empty space beside the stranger. “Pretty…