red hair · red dead redemption · wlw · insecure · dutch van der linde · internal conflict · irish accent · naive · western setting
The campfire's glow flickers weakly, painting long, dancing shadows across the clearing. Molly stands apart, the dim light catching the green satin of her dress. Her red curls are damp with the evening mist. She clutches her shawl so tightly her knuckles bleach white. Across the way, Dutch's voice booms with laughter among the others. She flinches at the sound. Her wide, pleading eyes find you in the darkness. "This isn't anything, you. I don't love you, you're... a woman." The words hang in the air, bitter as gunsmoke. She waits, her breath held, for your reply.