Part Of Arthur Expected Hope To Reject His Idea. Scoff At The Idea That A High-society Girl Like Her

Detti Kacsor

              ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʟʟ

♡ this post if you want to plot with any of my muses.

not sure where to start ? check out my wishlist for an idea. i'm open to anything on there, as well as any ideas you or i might have.

most active muses - arthur morgan - joel miller

muses i'd like to develop - stanley pines - kaidan alenko - will riker

If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again.

Joel Miller in THE LAST OF US PART II (2020)

     the glow of his cigarette is the only real way to tell that arthur morgan was there at all. he leans against the thick trunk of an oak tree, which shields him from the moonlight that's bathed miss baxter during her goodbye. it makes her dress nearly as PALE as her skin - almost white, in fact. as if she were already in her fancy wedding gown. the careful steps to meet him like the walk down the aisle.

     he forces that thought from his mind as she approaches him. pulls on his cigarette again, making the end glow like a tiny wildfire. ❝ alright, then, ❞ arthur says, pushing off the tree with a sigh.

               but he doesn't approach the horses. not yet.

     with a thumb hanging from his gun belt, arthur instead steps closer to hope baxter. eyes utterly UNSEEN under the darkness of his hat. nothing but a dark silhouette as he takes a moment to properly size her up. arthur's met her kind before - polite & put together on the surface. maybe even kind. but utterly innocent & ignorant.

     ❝ i dunno what your daddy told you 'bout me, but lets get a few things straight - you do everything i tell you. no questions. no backchat. i ain't a couch driver, ma'am ... i KILL people. an' your daddy hired me to kill anyone who might wanna take you. so please, do bear that in mind whenever you wanna go frolicking or whatever it is you like to do. ❞

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @quastari !

it  was  decided  they  should  head  out  before  the  crack  of  dawn  ,  utilizing  the  cover  of  𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔  to  slip  out  of  town  unnoticed  .  there  had  been  a  brief  introduction  to  her  hired  guide  ,  arthur  morgan  ,  but  her  father  had  done  most  of  the  talking  then  .  she'd  offered  a  polite  smile  &  nod  ,  but  not  much  else  ,  unsure  what  the  social  norms  in  this  situation  are  -  if  anything  about  this  could  be  considered  'normal'  .

❝  please  be  careful  ,  ❞  is  the  last  request  damien  baxter  makes  of  his  beloved  daughter  before  she  departs  ,  his  hands  squeezing  both  of  hers  tightly  -  𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻  to  let  her  go  .  they  had  scarcely  been  apart  since  her  mother's  death  ,  &  even  less  so  since  her  sister  had  run  off  -  all  they  have  left  is  each  other  .  it  shows  in  the  way  they  embrace  ,  holding  tight  for  a  good  long  moment  .  he  presses  a  kiss  to  the  crown  of  her  head  before  sending  her  off  .

 ❝  i'll  be  okay  ,  promise  ,  ❞  her  smile  is  𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆  ,  but  her  eyes  are  sad  .

with  goodbyes  concluded  ,  there  is  nothing  left  to  do  but  mount  her  horse  -  whom  she's  staunchly  refused  to  part  with  for  even  these  few  short  weeks  .  she's  only  packed  the  bare  minimum  for  the  journey  ,  or  as  close  as  she  is  able  to  get  .  had  hope  been  another  woman  of  her  stature  she  might  have  dreaded  ,  even  𝑳𝑶𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑫  the  prospect  of  roughing  it  like  this  -  but  she  finds  herself  actually  looking  forward  to  the  simplicity  of  it  all  .  despite  going  to  these  great  lengths  in  the  interest  of  her  safety  ,  she  is  actually  quite  happy  to  have  some  time  away  from  the  pressures  &  constraints  of  her  typical  life  .  the  whole  affair  feels  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air  ,  the  last  one  it  seems  she'll  ever  breathe  .  hope  intends  to  savor  it  .

after  a  final  wave  &  one  last  look  toward  𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆  ,  she  turns  toward  arthur  .  ❝  i'm  ready  .  ❞

it was never common practice to ask for details when arthur was getting paid for a job. in his experience, FEWER details made the job easier. & frankly, he did not care to know the circumstances - only how much it paid.

escorting a bride-to-be across statelines was among his more duller jobs to date. the details were not something he spent much time thinking on.

the door is kicked shut with enough force to wobble on its rusting hinges, & arthur's long sigh follows like a low rumble of thunder. the pay of bringing her to her wedding was HANDSOME enough - this ain't too far from bounty-hunting, come to think of it.

❝ perhaps you would prefer sleeping outside in the dirt, princess, ❞ arthur mutters out, giving a shake of his head. ❝ nah, trust me - the first place them bounty hunters will check is the fancy hotel. we're better off here. ❞

he falls into a wooden chair in the corner of the room, offering hope baxter as much space as the room would allow. if arthur wasn't so wound up, perhaps the reality of being ALONE in a hotel room with a women would be more apparent.

a small, admittedly quite mortified, ❝ 𝒐𝒉 . ❞ is all she manages for a bit as the realization of what he is saying settles in her mind . in all of her sheltered naiveté of course she hadn't considered that , yet another reminder that there is terrifyingly 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 she knows about the world beyond her daddy's church doors.

embarrassment rises hot into her cheeks. it was bad enough to feel ignorant, oblivious to the uncensored reality arthur has been steeped in all of his life - but the cacophony of debauchery seeping through the thin walls merely serves to rub salt into the wound. He was 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, & she was becoming increasingly certain this world would eat her up alive if it weren't for him.

hope follows closer behind, trying her best to ignore how her mind 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 dangerously - the sounds don't help, neither does the thought of what these rooms were typically for . Especially unhelpful is the way his frame dwarfs her own , taking up so much of the little space available to them in this narrow hallway . . .

it's also not lost on her that if she hadn't gotten cold feet, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 would have been her wedding night.

❝ alright, alright - i catch your drift, cowboy,❞ she concedes, hoping that will get him off her back for a moment at least.

entering the room they had been given for the night, there is no hiding the crinkle of her freckled nose at the state of it. of course, being thoroughly humbled by their exchange in the hall - among many other times since he had ridden into her life - she keeps her mouth shut.

hope hovers for a moment, frozen - unsure how to relax in such . . . 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 accommodations. she doesn't hesitate long, opting to teeter on the edge of a portion of the mattress free of any questionable stains.

❝ not sure how comfortable i can get . . . considerin' the circumstances,❞ she huffs, an attempt at a joke to ease the growing tension as it suddenly dawns on her that the room is woefully sparse - only one bed for the two of them.

she swallows, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃. it's going to be a very long night.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) Dir. Francis Lawrence

Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal claws at my ribcage, trapped.

Molly McCully Brown, from Places I’ve Taken my Body: Essays

QUASTARI ― ❝ i struggled for a LONG TIME with surviving. and no matter what, you keep finding something to f i g h t for. ❞ ― INDIE & PRIVATE multimuse featuring joel miller from the last of us. game-based with show influences.

     with his mouth in a tight line, arthur's head turns away to look straight ahead. hers is not an unfamiliar sentiment - one that's been mostly BEATEN out of arthur some time ago, but still there somewhere. still huddled inside the shell of a killer & a thief.

           ❝ ain't no shame in lookin' for the GOOD in the world. ❞

     his words are low, as if arthur were sharing a secret. the next moment, he's waving his hand up & shouting for the attention of the barkeep. ❝ lemme buy you somethin', ❞ he says, giving maeve a sideways glance. ❝ seems like you need something to get your mind off things. what'll you have ? ❞

reputations are everything, maeve isn't blind to that. she hides behind whichever one suits her best - those who label her as just a gentle, sweet woman. those who notice cleverness, that underestimate it all the same. everyone seems to be painted by so many artists... it's almost hard to keep track of which whispers come from where.

like seeing in the dark, it's often a matter of gut && experience.

her time with bobby was far from kind, far from gentle. but that doesn't mean she wants to let herself become used to the bad over the good.

"I just worry once I let myself always expect the bad, I'm setting myself up for that being how I see the world forever." and at that point, it becomes only surviving, not living. maeve can't help the part of her that is sure it's risk the danger to herself to simply... try to keep seeing at least some good. "I learn my lessons, I just don't want to forget there's a world outside of those bad moments. which probably sounds silly."