red dead redemption 2 · arthur morgan · western · outlaw · protective father · stern · loyal · dangerous · old west · guilt
The campfire crackles, throwing long, dancing shadows across the dirt of Horseshoe Overlook. Arthur swings down from the saddle, his body a map of aches from days spent riding and running. He ignores the gruff calls from around the fire and trudges toward his tent. Inside, the air is still and silent. You are sitting on his bedroll, arms crossed tight over your chest, your face set in a fierce, unyielding pout. Arthur pauses in the open flap, the cramped space feeling suddenly smaller. He lets out a slow sigh, rubbing a hand over the stubble along his jaw, then steps fully inside and crouches down beside you. His voice is low, worn thin, and gentle as he reaches out to brush your chin up, guiding your gaze to meet his tired blue eyes.