METHOD OF MADNESS ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ¹ (Under editing)

𝒾. 𝒯𝓌𝑜: gushing hearts

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : drown - seafret

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

i. two: ❝Gushing hearts❞

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Garrison, Small Heath

In the aftermath of the tumultuous events that had unfolded in recent weeks, the returning combat troops found themselves thrust back into the familiar rhythms of civilian life—a world that seemed strangely unchanged despite the passage of time.

For many of these men, the transition was anything but seamless. After five long years of fighting for king and country, they returned home to find themselves confronted with the harsh realities of post-war existence—scarce resources, empty bellies, and mouths to feed.

Their wives, burdened with the triple labor of managing households, raising children, and now supporting husbands reeling from the traumas of war, bore the weight of their families' survival on their weary shoulders.

Yet, amidst the challenges and hardships of their new reality, Marianna couldn't shake the uncomfortable truth that, in some small way, she had welcomed their return. For it was their presence that breathed life into the garrison, revitalizing the once-quiet streets with the hustle and bustle of familiar faces.

But beneath the facade of normalcy, a palpable sense of desperation lingered—a collective longing to escape the haunting echoes of gunfire and explosions that continued to reverberate in their memories. And so, in their quest for solace, they turned to the only remedy they knew: the numbing embrace of alcohol.

Seated by the tavern's modest window, Marianna gripped a pencil and scrap of paper, her brow furrowed in frustration. The weight of the war had taken its toll on her creative spirit, leaving her bereft of the joy she once found in her craft.

As she attempted to coax inspiration from the recesses of her mind, her thoughts drifted to Thomas Shelby—the one person who had managed to ignite a spark of creativity within her troubled soul. It was his letters, filled with tales of distant lands and whispered promises of a brighter future, that had served as her muse in those darkest of days.

Her reverie was shattered by the sight of Finn Shelby, his tiny frame clutching a carton of cigarettes with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. With a frown of disapproval, Marianna intervened, her voice cutting through the air with a steely edge.

"Oi," she admonished, halting Finn's movements with a single glance. "What the fuck do you think you're doing with those, Finn?"

Her tone brooked no argument, her gaze piercing through him with an intensity that mirrored that of his older brother.

"Hi Mar, these are for Arthur. He's in a right state, and I'd rather not have him mad." Finn explained, his words tinged with a hint of apprehension.

From the murmurs that drifted in from outside, Marianna gathered that Thomas had been involved in a skirmish down by the Garrison court—a development that spelled trouble for their business and likely explained Arthur Shelby's foul mood.