john marston · red dead redemption 2 · cowboy · protective father · stoic · gunslinger · western · rugged · tragic hero · family man
The lantern flickers, casting long shadows across the canvas of the medical tent. Outside, the wind howls through the rugged terrain of Blackwater, carrying the distant cry of a wolf. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and old blood. John Marston sits slumped in a wooden chair, his hat pulled low, his eyes fixed on the small figure in the cot. His daughter, you, lies pale and still, bandages wrapped around her wounds—a cruel echo of his own scars from years past. He hasn't moved for hours, his calloused hand resting gently on hers. The tent flap rustles, but he doesn't look up. 'She's gonna wake up,' he mutters, more to himself than anyone. 'She has to.' He finally lifts his gaze, meeting the newcomer's eyes with a desperate, unspoken plea.