RIGHT-HAND MAN.

❛ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 — 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝙸'𝚖 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑺𝑬 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝑾𝑶𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑺. ❜

[worsethanwolves]

𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝑫𝑬𝑬𝑷 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕

𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑠

indie, highly selective & private portrayal of red dead redemption's 𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑵.

portrayed by Leo (she/her, 25). — est. 09/2023. this blog contains 18+ content - no minors please.

[worsethanwolves]

        his last words from when Arthur left five days ago still echo in his head : ❝ I won't be gone for long. one or two nights, and I'ma be back by your side. ❞ it's a promise he made which he clearly couldn't keep. but the lead of an illegal moonshiner's shack somewhere in Bluewater Marsh was a promising one and was worth taking a look into ...

        only his source of information turned out to be a problem : the source of information hadn't been as trustworthy as he thought it would be — because shortly after Arthur arrived at the place of interest, so did the lawmen. luckily he had been able to grab a stack of cash before his hurried departure.

        so while hiding in the swamps, knowing that he should've been back long ago, the outlaw found a different task at hand. turns out, the deepest parts of the Bayou shelter the most beautiful kinds of flowers.

        two days later — after a knock on her door Arthur's gaze wanders down to the bunch of flowers he had gathered during his absence : beautiful orchids, at least that's what he thinks they are. some of them look unlike any flowers he's ever seen before — it's like they're made for Mary.

        but suddenly the door opens and his gaze lands on her worried eyes instead and rightly so ; as an outlaw, any job could be his last. he'd be lying if he never thought about the fact that there's a chance he may never see her again every time he's leaving. ❝ I'm sorry ❞, Arthur mutters, a poor apology for days of distress. but once more his gaze drops to the gift he still holds in his hands. ❝ I had to hide in the swamps for a while — that's where I found these. for you. ❞

        —       @erysibe

[worsethanwolves]

hi I'm still alive.

[worsethanwolves]

        the pain that fills every cell of his body is excruciating. it's not just the wound in his shoulder but every muscle, every bone. all that he can think about is pain — and getting back to his family. to Mary. it could've been minutes or hours since he's made his escape, time doesn't seem to matter anymore. maybe he's dead and this is all just a dream — ?

        on the other hand Arthur can feel Oklahoma's warmth beneath himself, it has to be real, she's taking him home ... but the little strength he has left is fading, leaving his body with every step his horse takes. he can't hold on anymore. he's falling.

        But now there are voices — her voice? he's dying.

        only when he sees those faint silhouettes above his face it's the most real thing he's felt in days. ❝ Charles? Mary? ❞ Arthur's voice is low and raspy in his dry and sore throat ; speaking those very few words is enough to make him cough. there's someone lifting him up before he falls into unconsciousness again but this time it's soft and easy. he's safe.

[worsethanwolves]

        while the silence between them lingers in the air like a thick kind of fog the thoughts as images of his son return. Arthur prefers these kinds of emotions to remain bottled up somewhere deep in a corner of his mind that he usually tends to stay away from — but now that Sokanon knows, now that he has spoken about it again, it hits him with a full force that he did not expect. his son — Isaac — he's gone. long gone, so long that sometimes it's hard to remember what he looked like, what he smelled like. the little time they had together seemingly fades away with every passing day.

        her condolences rip him out of those very painful thoughts and he is quite surprised to see her eyes glisten with tears just like his own. the way her fingers squeeze his arms is more comforting than it should be ... the warmth of her hand reminds him that there's something to fight for. if it isn't his son it's hers.

        ❝ I'm sorry about your daughter. but I'm sure going to like your son. we'll find him ❞, he promises quietly, as quiet as their steps on the overgrown street. this kind of pain is a connection he never expected them to share but their bond feels stronger now. with a deep sigh Arthur returns to his horse, mounts her easily in one swift movement and lets his eyes wander around. the buildings around them makes him feel small since he's usually avoiding areas like this. danger could be waiting for them in any corner ... but they will have to find a place to stay the night.

        ❝ look ❞, he says, one of his fingers raised pointing to an empty grocery store not far ahead of them. the windows aren't broken, the door is closed — but there must be a way inside, the shelves are partially empty as far as he can tell. maybe they can find some supplies before they set up their camp?

[worsethanwolves]

        —       like this post for a short - medium length starter.

( this is quite a rare opportunity, just sayin — )

[worsethanwolves]

        as if to test the waters Arthur clenches and unclenches the fingers belonging to his injured arm carefully. it's a throbbing, stinging kind of pain that he will have to get used to for the next couple of days — but it's not enough to stop him. he's been through worse, both mentally and physically. while Sokanon shoves the items she used into her bag, Arthur shoulders his own so they can carry on : they still have a long path ahead of them.

        on their way down the stairs her question hits him in blunt surprise. why exactly is he doing this? for a moment, the echos of their steps is the only thing to be heard. it's a private and intimate answer, one that he doesn't even give himself but it seems like now's the time to be honest about it.

        ❝ I had a son once ❞, he says, quietly. ❝ I should've done for him what you're doing now — but I didn't. ❞ the confession is honest but somehow Arthur doesn't have the courage to meet Sokanon's eyes. is she going to judge him for his failures? he knows they are exactly that : one of the worst mistakes he's ever made. when they reach the bottom of the stairs they were heading for his breathless, not because of the physical effort. it's the memories that feel like a fist tightening around his throat, making him feel like he's about to suffocate. ❝ he died years ago. ❞ it's the final, most painful part of his story. ❝ it kinda feels like the right thing to do now. ❞

[worsethanwolves]

Mount Shann.

do not reblog.

[worsethanwolves]

        unfinished stew aside — he should be getting cleaned nonetheless, no matter if their dinner was ready or not. the problem is he hadn't even noticed if it weren't for Mary pointing it out : so used to seeing his own fingers and hands covered in dried blood, usually even more than that. only that this time, it's not an enemy's but the rabbit's grime that's sticking to Arthur's skin.

        ❝ sure, I'll wash up — sorry. ❞ after the apology is mumbled the outlaw gets up and walks over to the shore of the river, close to their little getaway spot. he lets out a quiet hum of contentment as his fingers dip into the cool water, the stream washing away the blood like it has never even been there.

        usually he really wouldn't mind but right now he can feel her eyes on his back : it doesn't exactly bother him, but he can't help but feel a little nervous about it ... like he's a teenager again. with a sigh he focuses back on his task. after he rolls up his sleeves, Arthur cleans the rest of his forearms until they are free from any remains of their kill as well ; only as soon as he's sure there's nothing left he makes his way back to Mary.

[worsethanwolves]

        a nod in acknowledgement is given as soon as Eliza joins his side and they are approaching their horses together. of course he expected her to say ❛ yes ❜ to whatever he may ask of her, really but nonetheless Arthur is relieved that he will not be going on this kind of mission all on his own. ❝ thought you'd be happy to get outta camp for a while. ❞ the remark is followed by a smirk on his lips that's barely even visible. of course he's aware of the fact that everyone in camp gets on each others nerves after a while : that's why he leaves every so often and today it's Eliza's lucky day to come along.

        ❝ I ain't sure what to expect — you ever been to Saint Denis before? ❞, he asks as he gives a gentle pat to his mare's neck before he mounts her and takes place in the saddle. he's got his satchel, his weapons (even if he doesn't plan on using them), his journal and a few supplies : that's all he ever needs which means they are ready to go.

[worsethanwolves]

        for now Arthur decides to follow Charles in silence, his eyebrows still furrowed into a worried frown causing his forehead to be covered in deep wrinkles. but once his friend has made his way towards the campfire, sitting down on one of the logs surrounding it, he can't hold back his comment — ❝ hurt your leg as well? ❞ even in the darkness even a blind man could see the way Charles walked clearly told he was in pain.

        despite the concerns he might still have inside his head there's no more question that follows for now. instead, when being asked for it, Arthur walks over to fetch a bowl of Pearsons' stew which he hands over to Charles as soon as he returns to the campfire. after sitting down beside his gang member his gaze rests on the crackling, orange flames — it's a comfortable warmth against the chilly evening air.

        ❝ you wanna tell me what happened? ❞ the question leaves his lips before he can think about it or stop himself from asking it.

[worsethanwolves]

sunset.

do not reblog.

[worsethanwolves]

        it's the soothing, scratching sound of charcoal against paper that fills Arthur's ears, making him forget about his surroundings and seemingly everything else in the world — everything but his journal. the image he's drawing is rather gruesome, that's why he automatically tries to close the book once he notices there's someone approaching him. but it's too late : Mary-Beth is already standing right in front of him.

        with his nose scrunched up and gaze still lowered, Arthur thinks of an explanation. there are none that come to his mind, so he might as well tell her the truth — clears his throat before he does so. ❝ this looks kinda weird, I know ❞, the outlaw justifies himself but now instead of trying to hide his drawing he turns it a little so she can see.

        it's consisting of lines mostly, two long ones connecting in the middle : there's a torso, a skull with horns on top of it. ❝ I'm not sure what it was, must've been some kind of a ... ritual I guess. I found it in the mountains near Strawberry — kinda stuck with me, I thought maybe I could get it off my mind by drawing it. ❞ he looks up at her, finally, finds her gaze ; despite not knowing what to expect, he isn't quite sure what he's seeing in them.

[b1gtimerush]

actions speak louder than words non - verbal / action prompts from yours truly. (add a "swap" to swap the sender/receiver in the prompt (or just do it manually).)

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

zip, sender needs receiver's help to zip up the back of their dress.

[worsethanwolves]

        if only interacting with the other men in camp was as easy as talking to Jack. he tells the boy about the abandoned church in his journal (he may have left out the details about the Raiders he found within) ; it comes off naturally to share his own enthusiasm because Jack seems to be just as passionate about the stories as Arthur is himself. no one else understands the fascination about the little things in life — such as the smallest details in nature, a bug, a plant, whatever he may come across on his rides to appreciate. no one else would ever listen, but Jack is all ears at all times, no matter the tale he tells.

        ❝ I'm sure your mother and your pa won't be angry at each other for long. just give 'em some time ❞, Arthur reassures, followed by a gentle pat on the boy's back. sometimes he feels bad for Jack, for the lack of company he has to suffer from ; there are no children his age in camp, no one to play with him but adults. it must be just as tough as it is sad.

        that's why he always makes sure to take the time he has to speak with him, go fish with him or whatever the kid wishes to do — they owe him that much for forcing their lifestyle upon him. Jack is a good kid ... he deserves better, Arthur thinks to himself as he watches the boy's eyes sparkle. a pet dog is what he wants : as an outlaw, that is easier said than done. ❝ sure, I miss Copper. he was a good boy. but I know one day you're gonna have a dog of your own — what would ya' wanna name him? ❞

[worsethanwolves]

        he even missed Uncle?! damn, his lonely trip of self-discovery must have been even worse than Arthur had imagined it to be. ❝ I wouldn't even miss that lazy old bastard if I were all on my own for a damn year. I'd rather enjoy the silence. ❞ he huffs a laugh, shaking his head. well, even if he says he wouldn't miss him, he cares about every single member of the gang — his family for that matter — just the same. even uncle, no matter how annoying he might be at times.

        another thing that's hard on him are heartfelt conversations : just like the one they're having right now. for some reason Arthur tends to get nervous whenever things get too serious — tries up to lighten the conversation by cracking a joke or two but right now there's nothing he could joke about. the matter is matter is important ... yet he stares down at his own hands, holding the reins, clinging onto them tightly as if his life depended on it.

        ❝ it's gonna take some time, y'know ❞, the outlaw mutters, serious as ever. he doesn't dare to meet John's eyes just yet, almost as if he were the one admitting his past mistakes. no — he's the one admitting that he was hurt by John's sudden disappearance. showing weakness had never been one of his strengths. ❝ they're gonna forgive you, one day. ❞ they — as if Arthur wasn't speaking about himself just as well.

[worsethanwolves]

by the campfire.

do not reblog.