The diamond on your finger felt burdensome that evening, as though the very jewel itself burned a hole straight through your flesh, until it scraped across the bone beneath. The delicate gemstone that twinkled in the faintest glimmer of light, suddenly weighed down upon your hand, until it nearly felt as though it might all but give out if you attempted to lift it. The band of smooth gold felt tighter than it ever had before, as it wrapped around your fourth finger like the thick base of a noose, coiling harsher around your finger until you could very nearly feel the beating of your pulse in the suffocated flesh right at your fingertip. The stone, beautifully cut and hand picked by the man who had gifted it to you years back, suddenly feeling anything but light.
It felt insurmountably heavy, a burden within it's iridescent shimmer, that felt as though you wore not a ring symbolizing marriage and a single commitment to the one man you had ever loved, but rather a rock thrusted upon your hand, weighing you down with a strength that nearly threatened to force you to the ground right there on your knees.
Thomas Shelby's study burned with a harsh orange glow, illuminated by the lamp sitting in place upon his large wooden desk, bathing the overwhelming walls in an unforgiving hue of citrine that resembled more of a burnt orange flame. A light that was surely doing damage to his eyesight, as he subjected himself to more hours in the confines of such saturated and poor lighting than he did in the light of pure day.
Even with the glasses he'd been forced to wear ever since his nearly life-ending injury a year back, sitting strewn across papers that cluttered the surface of his desk, could do little to heal the ache the dim light exposed to his eyes. It was a cast of light that even managed to burn your own sight, as you'd spent infrequent time in the dense shadows of his study in the hours when sleep managed to find you, the strain was evident in your weary eyes as you stood amongst the all-consuming burn of futile light.
The night was silent beyond that of the vastly stretched windows, covered by the cascading curtains that closed out the evidence of another day put to rest, casting aside the softest sliver of a pale pearl moonlight. The warm wood of Tommy's office, the deep tones absorbing the dark citrine glow, nearly emphasizing the impact of such shadows and painful warmth within the interior of his study.
For as the night whispered not a single sound, it felt as though the tall walls that engulfed your small and meek frame, all but consumed the void that lingered in an unnerving silence around you. The sky that had soaked up every last ounce of lingering light left behind from the day, remained utterly silent because the walls and bookshelves that encased you, felt as though they had captured all of the words thrown within it's confines. Absorbing the tones that lingered in the atmosphere like an impending storm cloud, clutching tightly to the words so that they could simply echo them back in hushed whispers that swirled relentlessly around you.
The tension was palpable in the atmosphere, that stung with the strong stench of continuously burning tobacco and the powerful tones of Tommy's cologne, that managed to permeate every room he entered. It filled your lungs with unease with each shallow inhale, feeling the way your chest proceeded to tighten the longer you stood within the clutches of a combative and aggressive environment. It pricked along the trail of your flesh, forearms exposed to the warm air that felt unnaturally cold, until your fingers began to shake nervously. Wringing them together over and over again, in front of your chest in an attempt to conceal the trembles, until the whites of your knuckles began to make a presence and the ache became evident in your harsh grasp.
Tommy used you as his verbal punching bag for his frustration that evening. The blow of his words, the impact of his voice, colliding against your heart as if you were simply a sand filled leather bag twirling down from the ceiling above. But you let him, you realized, time after time. You allowed his outrage, no matter how misdirected he knew within himself to be, to pierce it's talons into you, until you could nearly feel the shredding of your flesh. You let him expel all of his frustration in harsh bursts, because you loved him.
