She appeared like the very exhale of the bright afternoon sun was upon her, as the candlelight that flickered in a gentle sway, illuminated her in a rich citrine hue. One that eradicated the tone of soft porcelain that had always captured her complexion in a breath of pale beauty and delicate refinery, replacing it with a tanned hue that made her skin warmer as though the rare display of sunlight that afternoon, had kissed every inch of her.
It was a different sight, Thomas Shelby mused to himself, to see her in this light. This oversaturated, eye burning kind of light. For the glow of the single candle sitting idly on the coffee table, bathed her in an ambiance he'd never saw her immersed in before.
His eyes had seen her at the break of dawn, with the faintest breath of the sun peering timidly over the foggy horizon, and made her cheekbones twinkle like the evening's abandoned stars had simply gotten lost in the pale abyss of her skin tone. He'd witnessed her amongst stormy afternoons, when she sat cross legged on the floor beside Charlie and his plethora of wooden trains, almost seeing the yearn for clear skies and calm air spread across her face, like with the grey clouds came her own sense of deeply rooted melancholy.
He'd even observed her over a brightly candlelight illuminated dinner table, peering at her animated expressions as she engaged in a conversation with the little boy. A talent of hers Tommy could never deny as he himself, found it quite difficult to converse with his own son, over trite topics and following the line of thought only that of a five year old could possess. But she did it with ease, as though talking to Charlie about things that held no importance to an adult but held the weight of the world to him, was enjoyable and simple and perhaps, more pleasant than conversations she might share with another human her own age.
But he'd never seen her in this light. This two in the morning light, when the rest of the world appeared to be resting and her bare feet pattered along the hardwood floor of his study as though she were the only soul awake. It was an intimate kind of light, one that bathed her in a special kind of glow as if the innocence woven within her character, was tangible and worn like the satin nightgown she adorned.
A private kind of light, as if even his own icy gaze of chilling azure, was scathing upon a sight he hadn't the right to peer upon. For there was something incredibly tempting about the way the single exhale of a sharp citrine hue found her, illuminating her single frame while leaving the rest of the space engulfed within the shadows of the overwhelming night. It was like a spotlight shinning down upon Tommy's deepest desires.
She hadn't heard his own bare steps bring him to a halt in the threshold of his study, leaning his weight against the smooth wooden beam as he observed her in the untouched silence.
Hands dug deep into the pockets of his black trousers, the cool night's air crawling over the exposed flesh of his forearms, as the sleeves of the ivory undershirt he wore, were coiled and pushed harshly up his arms. Displaying the thick veins running beneath his warm skin and he felt the nip in the air dance along the curve of his collarbone, dipping down timidly through the soft wisps of raven hair peeking out from the undone buttons.
There was something about the way he was dressed down for the night, having retired far earlier than most nights, as some days he didn't go to bed at all. But even as he stood far more casual than she had ever seen him to look in her presence, she still appeared more of an intimate sight than Tommy Shelby ever would.
The shade suited her, a soft breath of mint green satin cascading down her frame, with the faintest taste of intricate lace dancing up the flowy sleeves of her dressing gown. It was a meld of blue and green, as the delicate hue of soft green made her porcelain skin stand out, but as the candlelight flooded over the linen, it emboldened it to a bluer hue that enriched the sight of her hair. Thick waves, tumbling over her left shoulder like a never ending current of deep ebony, as her locks had been tightly secured in the confines of a simple plait since she woke that morning, leaving behind the evidence as their freedom now cascaded in slightly wild waves down her shoulder.
