04-19-2019, 08:07 PM
RIDE TILL I CANT NO MORE
ARTHUR MORGAN
Arthur Morgan was ashamed to say that he ran away when things got too hot to handle. When jobs got to be too much. When he felt himself getting too attached. His only exception was the fathers he found in Dutch Van der Linde and Hosea Matthews, and about the most dysfunctional functional family they built out of vagabonds and ruffians. His heart and life belonged to them and them only. He only wavered the day he found out Mary Linton was pregnant via a lavender scented letter sitting prettily on the crate next to his bedside. Years of asking her to marry him and time and time again she had declined. Even with a baby now added into the mix, she still refused to budge despite his insistence. He could leave all of this behind. They could be happy. 'Daddy would never approve, Arthur.' 'You'll never change. We both know this.' He knows this. He knows he could never leave the gang, but it doesn't lift the dull ache of loss that settles in his chest. As sweet as he was on Ms. Linton, he knows she would never be his. And for years the most he did was send any money he could to the family. As tainted as it was, he would only hope they'd accept what little he could offer.
And it would stay this way. And Arthur would learn what little he could about his daughter that Mary would write to him about. Granted it wasn't much, but it was still something. He slipped into a comfortable live of outlawing and sending money and waiting for letters. So. Much. Waiting. It was agonizing, but the bustle of bank robberies and train heists kept his mind distracted on other things. He would never admit that once or twice he'd forgotten about his stranger family, oblivious to their existence until another lavender letter showed up at his bedside.
Today would take a turn. Whether for better or for worse he didn't know. But he was in for the ride of his life.
Arthur had been propped against a tree, overlooking the plains from their camp in Horseshoe Overlook and sipping coffee from his tin. It was a peaceful morning. Just earlier he'd been having a quiet chat with Charles and watching the sunrise. Even once the bustle of the morning routine began, there was an odd peace about it that Arthur relished in. He wouldn't have thought anything of Bill Williamson's yelling until the word O'Driscoll was thrown. The man tensed, tossing what little contents in his tin remained and shoved it in his bag, replacing it with a revolver as quick as a flash. He turned and noticed that quite the crowd was forming around the "O'Driscoll". Approaching, he took notice of Dutch who had stepped forward from the crowd.
--
Dutch eyed the young girl curiously, yelling at Bill to "Shut the hell up for a moment." while he looked her over. She was young and certainly didn't sound like an O'Driscoll. Certainly didn't look like one either. Looked the fancy sort. A city girl. And that made his even more curious, lifting his brow in odd fascination. "Now, let's all just calm down here." he began smoothly, bending down a bit to meet her at eye level. "Hello there little miss. I sincerely apologize for my compatriot's lack of kindness. We don't normally get such ah... young visitors to our camp. You can call me Dutch." He sticks out his hand, hoping to gently take Amelia's in his and offer a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. "To whom do I owe this unexpected visit?" he asks, offering a smile her way.
--
While this is going on, Arthur stops himself beside Tilly near the edge of the gathered faces, brows furrowed in confusion as Dutch took on a more gentle demeanor. Kindness to an O'Driscoll? Either there was a mix up or Van der Linde was going fuzzy in the head. But as things played out, it was all to quickly discovered that this was no enemy gang member, but a child that had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. Slowly, he inched himself forward to get a look at the intruder. He caught sight of the girl for a moment- wispy brown locks and a fire in her eyes that could melt steel. His stomach turned. He knew something was off about her but he couldn't quite place it. He sheathed his revolver, now folding his arms across his chest in confusion. He did not speak however, instead choosing to watch to see how things unfolded.
And it would stay this way. And Arthur would learn what little he could about his daughter that Mary would write to him about. Granted it wasn't much, but it was still something. He slipped into a comfortable live of outlawing and sending money and waiting for letters. So. Much. Waiting. It was agonizing, but the bustle of bank robberies and train heists kept his mind distracted on other things. He would never admit that once or twice he'd forgotten about his stranger family, oblivious to their existence until another lavender letter showed up at his bedside.
Today would take a turn. Whether for better or for worse he didn't know. But he was in for the ride of his life.
Arthur had been propped against a tree, overlooking the plains from their camp in Horseshoe Overlook and sipping coffee from his tin. It was a peaceful morning. Just earlier he'd been having a quiet chat with Charles and watching the sunrise. Even once the bustle of the morning routine began, there was an odd peace about it that Arthur relished in. He wouldn't have thought anything of Bill Williamson's yelling until the word O'Driscoll was thrown. The man tensed, tossing what little contents in his tin remained and shoved it in his bag, replacing it with a revolver as quick as a flash. He turned and noticed that quite the crowd was forming around the "O'Driscoll". Approaching, he took notice of Dutch who had stepped forward from the crowd.
--
Dutch eyed the young girl curiously, yelling at Bill to "Shut the hell up for a moment." while he looked her over. She was young and certainly didn't sound like an O'Driscoll. Certainly didn't look like one either. Looked the fancy sort. A city girl. And that made his even more curious, lifting his brow in odd fascination. "Now, let's all just calm down here." he began smoothly, bending down a bit to meet her at eye level. "Hello there little miss. I sincerely apologize for my compatriot's lack of kindness. We don't normally get such ah... young visitors to our camp. You can call me Dutch." He sticks out his hand, hoping to gently take Amelia's in his and offer a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. "To whom do I owe this unexpected visit?" he asks, offering a smile her way.
--
While this is going on, Arthur stops himself beside Tilly near the edge of the gathered faces, brows furrowed in confusion as Dutch took on a more gentle demeanor. Kindness to an O'Driscoll? Either there was a mix up or Van der Linde was going fuzzy in the head. But as things played out, it was all to quickly discovered that this was no enemy gang member, but a child that had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. Slowly, he inched himself forward to get a look at the intruder. He caught sight of the girl for a moment- wispy brown locks and a fire in her eyes that could melt steel. His stomach turned. He knew something was off about her but he couldn't quite place it. He sheathed his revolver, now folding his arms across his chest in confusion. He did not speak however, instead choosing to watch to see how things unfolded.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @Sympathy ————— he's haunted by something he cannot define