XXI.RIGHTEOUSNESS

arthur morgan / red dead redemption affiliated with isola radiale house 138 • newcomer May I stand unshaken. Amid, amidst a crashing world. Did I hear a thunder? Did I hear you break? I can't quite remember just what guided me this way. The pines, they often whisper. They whisper what no tongue can tell. " He who drinks from the deep water, may he know the depths of the well."

[heavyhonored-blog]

he knows that the stick that barely passes as a rudimentary fishing pole sucks. he would be infinitely amazed if he at all managed to catch anything. without a reel and with a hook that’s pitiful to put it lightly, he’s more or less fly-fishing despite barely grasping the concept to begin with. at least he couldn’t go wrong with the bait.

a worm. better than the cheese or bread that hosea swore by for tiddlers.

from the depths of his lungs comes a quiet hum - an old campfire song that had fizzled out in the later years of the gang’s existence. something from his youth, back when it was just the old guard. he’s seated in the grass, bugs buzzing around him in the cool evening of yesteryear’s outskirts. // @lumensis​

[heavyhonored-blog]

sooner or later, he’s going to get himself into trouble with his scribbling in his journal. he already has - arthur laments to remember that interaction with his neighbor. rarely has he returned to his assigned living quarters since then. he is far more comfortable living the life of a nomad, in the outdoors. the city isn’t great, but he returns from time to time to get supplies and the like.

with a practiced hand, arthur sketches the outline of the feline walking the thin edge of a fence. he’s always been more of a dog person, but cats are fun to draw. especially when they start acting like fools.

a shadow casts to his right and arthur’s drawing hand stills, gaze glancing over to see if the figure is merely passing by or not. when not, arthur lifts his head and tips his hat back with the eraser of his pencil, peering at the pale-eyed woman nearby.

“...howdy.” // @rauubtier​

[heavyhonored-blog]

real shame that he died penniless. everything he’d had, he’d given to marston before his curtain call. of all the things to follow him to this world, he is thankful for his journal and hat, which function as objects of comfort as he navigates the not-really after-life.

but damn, not having a book of matches is a pain in his ass. no money to get one and too wound-tight is his brain to just steal one.

another man nearby is smoking, stood lonesome on some overhang to look over the nearby ward. arthur fidgets with the smoke in his fingers before sighing silently and approaching.

“‘scuse me, mister. you got a light?” the cigarette is raised to show what he means it for. “i ain’t got a match.” // @coluberfoxii​

[heavyhonored-blog]

revenantress‌:

Admittedly, most of her own communications is done through complex spell work. So, something like a phone has taken her weeks to try and get used to. The fact is a bit embarrassing, but, she figures that there are others who struggle with this too. So, she tries not to focus on that, and instead tucks the other’s name away for safe keeping.

“I am traditionally referred to as the Lady Requiem of House Axom. But, Requiem does finely.” The title still feels important, in a small, sentimental way. There is no land or power here, but she is still alive and thriving. “It’s a pleasure, Arthur.” 

At the question, she nods, breaking into a wry smile. “Think and talk indeed. Smarter than many humanoids, I would argue as well. They can craft rather good riddles and philosophies. Admittedly, some are kinder than others.” 

her name is certainly a mouthful, he thinks. arthur is sure that plugging that whole thing into the search function would definitely bring her up, but for sanity’s and simplicity’s sake, just ‘requiem’ will do in conversation. still, an odd name, but he’s known stranger.

“all mine, miss. good to meet you,” he says, tipping his hat subtly.

the concept of dragons itself is fantastical to the simple cowboy, but he thinks back to those storybooks he’d left for young jack and wonders if he’s ever read about a dragon who spoke and produced riddles. the only fire-breathing reptile he can recollect would be dutch, which brings a short-lived smirk to his lips before it dies succinctly.

“well, that’s pretty neat,” he admits. “never gathered that dragons were real, let alone geniuses. guess every living thing’s got its own brand of wisdom. do they live long?”

[heavyhonored-blog]

33, 34, 36

ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs … ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪᴛ // not accepting.

33: Do you have trust issues?

he isn’t quite sure how to answer this one at first. arthur very visibly turns that question over in his head for a minute. “perhaps so, yes. it’s hard to find people worth trustin’. so many people out for themselves or their own keep their priorities straight. not so many kind folk who will drop everythin’ for a stranger.”

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

“home. probably what a lot of us here would say, right?” arthur chuckles half-heartedly, scratching at his cheek briefly. “i left some people behind who i don’t know what’s happened to them since. i think ‘bout them a lot - dream about them too.”

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

“no. not anymore.”

[heavyhonored-blog]

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs … ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪᴛ // not accepting.

“i’d have to say ‘forgive’ just ‘cause a lot of times, it’s hard for people to forget. well - i guess it’s dependent on whatchu mean. but, thinking ‘bout myself, i’d have to say forgivin’ is easier than forgettin’.”

apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it seems.

[heavyhonored-blog]

3 6 and 10!

ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs … ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪᴛ // not accepting.

03: Do you regret anything?

“yes.” the answer comes with little hesitation. he has to think to answer further. “i think it’d be a bit strange if people didn’t go through life without at least some regrets. just the natural order of things, ain’t it? the world’s cruel, in its own ways, to everybody.”

06: How do you want to die?

this question is met with silence.

he does believe, however, that he got an easy death compared to what was deserving of a man like him.

10: When was your last physical fight?

“guess i’ve been on my best behavior since it’s been ‘bout two weeks now. knocked a guy flat for taking my hat in a bar. haven’t seen him around there since.”

[heavyhonored-blog]

@flyingspinkicks​ | EVENT: pandemonium

oh. terrible.

arthur never much cared for street performers. clowns are clowns and arthur doesn’t have much by the way of needing to ever interact with them. this one, however, has gone and made a problem for arthur that cannot be ignored and the unfortunate circumstances that come with being in golden ward at the wrong damn time is just peachy.

the bb gun he was given upon arrival is just perfect for the balloon summons that have popped up around the ward. arthur shoots them with relative ease, trying his best to not allow any others nearby to be caught in his crossfire. it’s like a fair game, he thinks, and that’s about the only thing that’s keeping him interested.

besides ... the poor feller who got turned into a cat monstrosity. yeah, that might be just enough motivation to fill in the cracks.

[heavyhonored-blog]

revenantress‌:

“The dragonborn are quite strange, but I’d be happy to teach you about dragons. Quite the noble creature, I’m sad I haven’t encountered more than a youngling in my time.” Requiem smiles, a little glassy-eyed and distracted in her own excitement to explain. 

Healing magic is fickle. It won’t do much besides glow and flash if there is nothing to repair. So, in a fit of wanting to show this off, she twists and looks herself over, and frowns sharply when nothing is found. Oh well, there will be more chances. “I suppose I’ll just need to meet you again to show you, hm? The um, the numbers, if you require assistance, you can contact me.” 

It’s a gentle offer of again, Requiem trying to make sure that the other won’t completely flee. But, he’s interested in dragons, in the other creatures, so she figures she can keep his interest a little longer. 

“Dragons come in all sorts of moralities and colors, ranging from gold to black. Is there an aspect you’d like me to focus on first?”

the numbers ... ? arthur squints at her when she muses on that bit, not entirely sure what exactly she means by it. he’s a bit slow on the uptake, recalling telephones and their scarcity in his line of work. that’s right, they have the ability to call one another without going through an operator. how convenient yet so terribly complicated all at once.

“right.” arthur nods. “guess i’d need your name, though. i’m arthur - arthur morgan. in case you need to find me.”

he nearly snorts at the thought that she might not be able to find him in person, which would be the usual context of that phrase, but the phone will work.

“what you mean by ‘moralities’? they can ... think? talk?”

[heavyhonored-blog]

knownfrequency‌:

“You were some kind of outlaw, then? Strange that you’d admit it so openly. I’ve met a lot of your kind. I’ve watched countless recordings of their ships exploding into pieces after they attacked my freighters. Foolish, but brave. Or perhaps just desperate?”

In one universe, it was bandits that robbed Apollo of their body. In another, it was bandits that reached their broken form first and were responsible for saving their life–for a hefty price, of course. It took them years to make back what they lost. The anger never faded.

They watch as his body language changes, and for the first time their universal translator picks up a clear indication of aggression. The construct steps forwards to close the distance between them, shoulders squared, their size more noticeable than ever. They are undeniably massive in comparison to a human of average height and mass, but their neighbor doesn’t seem intimidated.

Good. This has quickly turned into an experiment, and they expect interesting results. Just how hard can a human hit when they need to?

“Do you think yourself able to hurt me?” The alien tongue barely audible beneath their translated speech deepens into a growl. It thrums in their chest like the vibrations of a concealed engine. “Just try it, Arthur Morgan.”

knowing you can’t do much to someone - physical harm wise - is one thing. giving in to the knee-jerk urge to throw hands when challenged is another.

thankfully, arthur has tempered his anger since his youth and, despite enjoying the thrill of engaging in altercations with strangers, he is smart enough to take those sharp edges and metallic sheen of his neighbor into consideration. the outlaw’s brow crinkles with agitation as he stares down ( or rather, up at ) apollo. he would love to sock this alien in the face, but that won’t accomplish much beyond breaking his hand and perhaps amusing the other.

instead, arthur morgan raises his hands and shoves the traveler’s chest. the other ... doesn’t budge and arthur feels his wrists strain from the force. electing to get the hell out of there before he can escalate any further and actually cash in on that dim-witted want to smack the other around to the best of his ability, arthur turns sharply on his heel, spurs clinking from the movement.

“go fuck yourself,” he casts back, storming off toward his house. the slam of the door punctuates this ill conversation.

[livixdunne-blog]

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[heavyhonored-blog]

sanpatron‌:

Ah, there it was. He can put two and two together, he’s a smart enough guy. It was clear at this point that the Boss was speaking to a man out of time; one who was sure as shit more than confused as to how in the hell he got here and what any of this was. Poor bastard, must be an outright headache trying to comprehend any of this. Almost made the Boss feel some sense of empathy for the guy given what he personally experienced many years ago.

“ I see. ” is all he says at first. There’s some sense of interest in learning more about the man given the Boss’ soft spot for the time period. Oh he’s more than aware that it’s been romanticized to hell and back, but that wasn’t going to stop him from enjoying all manner of media made in relation to it. Still, he knows to be respectful. Knows he should proceed with some relative ease and caution. Not because he fears for his own life; but rather, he knows how it is to be in this position.

“ So if that’s the case then what do you plan on doing then? ”

arthur would never state that he has any semblance of skill with reading other people, but even in this agitated state, he can tell that the other man doesn’t mean anything by his questions or comments. there’s a respectful distance afforded to the outlaw which he appreciates. still, he knows far better than to be at ease around a stranger, especially one met in a bar, but it’s enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to bite someone’s head off at the drop of a hat.

the shot glass is refilled. arthur pulls it back across the mid-line.

“not sure yet,” he admits, turning his glass and watching how the amber whiskey distorts the grain of the wooden counter. when that bores him, he turns his gaze back toward the boss. “sort myself out first, get a job second.”

[heavyhonored-blog]

revenantress‌:

“Lucky is a tricky word, I’ve found. Bad for poetry, good for an explanation of a concept. I’ve decided some time ago that I quite like it.” She’s waxing a bit poetic in that moment, lost in the tales of bards and the story writing that comes from her own eclectic creations. There’s beauty in it, of course, but an odd sort of beauty. 

Dragons. A rueful and dangerous thing.

“They have their places. I’d be happy to explain the ones I know, if you are interested. They’re fascinating, in my opinion, though I know more about their humanoid offspring.” 

Magic. It’s rather difficult to explain, she finds. But, Requiem persists in her thought process. “Yes. My own are primarily channeled through this.” A hand taps her viola case. “I could show you, but only if you have an injury. I’d prefer not to waste it.” 

“humanoid offspring,” he parrots, brow scrunching under the shadow of his hat. “well, sure, i’d like to hear about these dragons. can’t say i’ll get it all, but what the hell.”

she makes the offer to show him magic, only to shoot it down immediately with her condition. it makes sense, he muses, since he questions the validity of magic that could heal real, palpable wounds and ailments. for a moment, his lips twitch as he thinks to himself about how perhaps this might be the only moment he would have preferred to have been sick. that’s an awful thought, however - he won’t flirt with it again.

“that’s a shame, then.” arthur hooks his thumbs over his belt, relaxing as he shifts his weight onto one foot. “you’ll just have to tell me ‘bout those dragons, then.”

[heavyhonored-blog]

knownfrequency‌:

“Now, you must realize your words have only increased my worry.”

It must be an insult, they decide. The way the muscles of the human’s face twist and reshape each contour is vaguely disturbing, but they can’t look away. They don’t mean to continue provoking the lifeform, but his reactions are so interesting, so varied.

“I expect they’re nothing compared to me when it comes to far-reaching consequences,” Apollo states airily. “Though I’m no killer, if that puts your mind at ease.” They tug at their scarf, obsessively rearranging the way it lays upon their pristine plating. “You’ve thought about shooting me, have you? I wouldn’t be able to defend myself, but you don’t see any issue with that… isn’t that right, Arthur Morgan?”

They’re beyond testing the waters with that observation, and they’re not sure of the level of hostility they’ll receive in response. They’re not afraid of the possibility, either way, viewing it as more of an inconvenience.

“You’re right, of course. I’m not disagreeing with you. I admire your conviction, but let me remind you that you have an advantage. You’re a human, existing in a human world. I am the only one of my kind in this dimension. Tell me, do you think I’m going to be on the receiving end of much compassion?”

A dimension they don’t know anything about. A society they barely understand. Apollo rests their hands on their hips, now silent. They’ve made their point.

they might’ve said that too, arthur thinks to himself with a twinge of misplaced aggravation pinching his heart. apollo is not meant for that frustration; no, that is an anger for someone else entirely. the words have an effect on the outlaw, however, and he feels a rage bubbling in him that reminds him of simpler times. times when he was encouraged to work it out on others mercilessly.

arthur is different now. he prides himself on that, no matter how the nostalgia eats at him like deep-set rot. what would hosea say?

“no. no, i do not believe that you should expect much in the way of compassion here.” arthur is at least honest in that regard. the anger in still evident in him, but he does not seem so untethered. “this is a whole ‘nother world, like you said. people like me, back home, were hunted and for good reason, but that ain’t nothin’ like how it is here. hell, i got no idea whatsoever what you’re in for, but i know that it can’t be nothin’ nice. people are savage and heartless as they are loving and sympathetic.”

shifting forward, just slightly, he raises his head. apollo is certainly stockier and taller than him, without mentioning that they are made of metal, but arthur doesn’t seem terribly perturbed at present.

“regardless, when someone mouths off to me, i’m not all that picky about who gets a bullet. i ain’t the smartest - i can’t do much to you - but you’re irritatin’ me enough to consider trying.”

[themightynyunyi]

last one of my cowboys and flowers series: my best boy ✨

[heavyhonored-blog]

ambadassadcr‌:

There is a bitter silence between the stranger’s repetition of his words and the giving of the name. Once more thrown into chaos, though this time with hardly a grip on anything familiar. Joris, for a few seconds, broods over his predicament before once again focusing on this speaker. 

Arthur. Easy enough to remember.

“Joris,” he supplies. “You’re right – one person alone isn’t going to get very far in this mystery. Working in tandem would be better.” An offer, one vaguely hidden so Arthur can refuse without ‘refusing’ directly. It may be a little early to establish contacts in this world but the ambassador is not going to let this slip by without an attempt.

“Maybe things will be a little less hostile, for a time.”

joris, he says. an odd name, arthur thinks, but he’s heard odder. he nods and makes a mental note to try and parse the spelling of that in his journal later.

“you take help where you can find it,” he answers. though arthur had never been the type to want people worrying after him, he’ll take an ally when he can find one. “no point in making enemies at every turn if you can help it.”

there isn’t much else he can think to speak with this stranger on. arthur adjusts his stance before speaking again.

“nice to meet you, fella - i’m gonna be on my way. not a good idea to be lingering around in the night.” he may cherish not being bothered in the nighttime, but the attention that is attracted is normal unsavory. “you take care.”

[heavyhonored-blog]

brujerxa‌:

➳➳ : Morrigan and apologies were not even remotely synonymous. However isolating herself from everyone held no benefits–Her loneliness and desire for home would simply increase tenfold. Thankfully her time in Orlais had sculpted her nonexistent social manners into perfection.

“I’m sorry for my brutish behavior. This place has taken a toll on my patience, and one too many curious individuals have taken to offering their opinions on my appearance.”

More accurately to say her son’s absence was the culprit for her darkened mood. As the days passed, her motherly instincts gnawed at her sanity with increasing regularity. She couldn’t refrain from imagining scenarios that always resulted in his death, feeding into her growing paranoia. And so having someone to chat with kept those emotions at bay. If only briefly.

 “My dear, this is so much more than dolls and rituals. This tome belonged to my mother, and contains magic so forbidden and unheard of. ‘Tis a treasure in the right hands.”

again, his forbearance with his emotions fails him and he grins slightly when the woman apologizes to him with her reasoning ready at hand. there’s a slow nod from the outlaw.

“trust me, ma’am, i cannot and do not blame you on that front.” reaching up, he briefly touches the pinch in his hat before lowering his hand again. now, turning slightly, he faces her a little off-center yet more comfortably for conversation. “i shouldn’t’ve been starin’ anyway.”

the outlaw’s brow raises in interest as she addresses the tome in her hands. he glances at it once again, regarding what he can see of the cover with a critical yet naive eye before pursing his lips curiously.

“don’t doubt it.” arthur crosses an ankle over his knee, resting his hand on his leg. “guess it’s sort of moot to ask why you’d be reading it if it’s forbidden and all that, huh?”