[ Perhaps the analogy is a bit too on the nose for, you know, a dang cowboy, but Arthur had felt too much like a newborn foal since waking up in that hospital — all shaky and unsure and like one misstep might send him tumbling head-over-heels. Metaphorically tumbling, that is, because in place of wobbly baby legs he's got a brain swimming with memories that don't quite add up. He has a house that's always been his house, neighbors who've always been his neighbors, and an unrelenting feeling that he ought to be out there, in the open, living off the land. The feeling that this civilized life isn't really his.
But, wobbly unrelenting feelings aside, there's one thing he knows without a trace of doubt: everything going on here, with the rabbits and the soft colors and the plastic eggs, is irrefutable nonsense.
No amount of drinks or ham or potato salad or flawless deviled eggs can change that. He knows, because he's tried. A lot. In fact, many drinks and many hams later he still thinks this is awful and he should go home.
But... he hasn't yet. Why, you ask? Well, because someone (that's you) has, for whatever reason, enlisted his help in the Infamous Egg Hunt. Arthur was rather inclined to say no but, as he is wont to do, he relented with minimal pestering and is now prodding along the grass hunting for splashes of color nestled among tree roots and clumps of daffodils. ]
Look, [ he says, a bit grumpily after having an egg snatched up from right under his nose by a more astute egg hunter, ] I ain't saying folks shouldn't have fun but don't you think this all seems a bit... foolish?
[ He gestures widely at foolish, indicating absolutely everything in his general vicinity because, again, the giant rabbits are pretty dumb. (But for the record he'd find it to be precisely 5% less foolish if the egg snatcher hadn't struck just moments before.) ]
a sample expedition
[ Volunteering to head outside the town seems to satisfy that pervasive sense that Arthur ought to be out there under the open sky, sleeping beneath the stars. At least for now. As he waits for his partner he finds himself wishing they could set up camp out there. Maybe do some hunting. It's an idiot notion and he knows it but it does sound nice all the same.
He's rather caught up in these flights of fancy as he gives his rifle one last inspection. So caught up that he's not so concerned when his companion shows up a bit late, though he remarks on it all the same. ]
Well! I was beginning to think you weren't planning on showing, friend.
[ He stands, slings the rifle over his shoulder. ]
If I'm honest I think this is a fool's errand and we must be the two biggest fools in town for volunteering but who am I to say? [ They're after that mythical supply cache. You know the one, up there in sample paragraph three. Arthur nods towards the great scary wild wilderness beyond. ] Shall we?
arthur morgan / red dead redemption 2
[ Perhaps the analogy is a bit too on the nose for, you know, a dang cowboy, but Arthur had felt too much like a newborn foal since waking up in that hospital — all shaky and unsure and like one misstep might send him tumbling head-over-heels. Metaphorically tumbling, that is, because in place of wobbly baby legs he's got a brain swimming with memories that don't quite add up. He has a house that's always been his house, neighbors who've always been his neighbors, and an unrelenting feeling that he ought to be out there, in the open, living off the land. The feeling that this civilized life isn't really his.
But, wobbly unrelenting feelings aside, there's one thing he knows without a trace of doubt: everything going on here, with the rabbits and the soft colors and the plastic eggs, is irrefutable nonsense.
No amount of drinks or ham or potato salad or flawless deviled eggs can change that. He knows, because he's tried. A lot. In fact, many drinks and many hams later he still thinks this is awful and he should go home.
But... he hasn't yet. Why, you ask? Well, because someone (that's you) has, for whatever reason, enlisted his help in the Infamous Egg Hunt. Arthur was rather inclined to say no but, as he is wont to do, he relented with minimal pestering and is now prodding along the grass hunting for splashes of color nestled among tree roots and clumps of daffodils. ]
Look, [ he says, a bit grumpily after having an egg snatched up from right under his nose by a more astute egg hunter, ] I ain't saying folks shouldn't have fun but don't you think this all seems a bit... foolish?
[ He gestures widely at foolish, indicating absolutely everything in his general vicinity because, again, the giant rabbits are pretty dumb. (But for the record he'd find it to be precisely 5% less foolish if the egg snatcher hadn't struck just moments before.) ]
a sample expedition
[ Volunteering to head outside the town seems to satisfy that pervasive sense that Arthur ought to be out there under the open sky, sleeping beneath the stars. At least for now. As he waits for his partner he finds himself wishing they could set up camp out there. Maybe do some hunting. It's an idiot notion and he knows it but it does sound nice all the same.
He's rather caught up in these flights of fancy as he gives his rifle one last inspection. So caught up that he's not so concerned when his companion shows up a bit late, though he remarks on it all the same. ]
Well! I was beginning to think you weren't planning on showing, friend.
[ He stands, slings the rifle over his shoulder. ]
If I'm honest I think this is a fool's errand and we must be the two biggest fools in town for volunteering but who am I to say? [ They're after that mythical supply cache. You know the one, up there in sample paragraph three. Arthur nods towards the great scary wild wilderness beyond. ] Shall we?