𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 liked to remain a mystery. It's what kept her safe; sane. The only thing that kept her in the shadows, along with the whisperings of her little birds feeding her their secrets.
The war was her escape, and Small Heath wa...
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❝Please, you may consider yourself charming, but I'm no fool to fall under your spell, Tommy Shelby.❞
𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 by the time Aurora returned. Disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only paranoia and obsessive thoughts in its wake. The eerie feeling of demons lurking around every corner prolonging her episode of unrelenting insomnia that Aurora was presuming would not despair before the violet and golden hues peek up on the horizon deeming it a new day. A new day that could very well be her last, for if her eyes had not deceived her and she hadn't mistaken the rose nestled on her doorstep was there for the very reasons she dreaded.
For not many know the true meaning of what her name entails, and the ones who do, are the ones she ran so desperately from.
So, while resting has already been established as a mocking routine, Aurora found herself in a realm of a bizarre déja vu. A smouldering glass of whiskey held in her grasp, reflecting off the burning embers in front of the grand chaise Aurora found herself lounging on, the simple scene being brought to an abrupt end by a heavy fist racking against her boldly coloured door.
Despite the running thoughts of what devil could be lurking behind that boundary, Aurora walked towards her door with no fear as what was to come. Her delicate hands wrapping around the brass handle as she pulls it open to the rather anticlimactic sight of a soaked Thomas Shelby awaiting rather impatiently on the other side. No invitation, or act of pleasantry exchanged before he was barging past the threshold, as well as Aurora, and into the warmth escape her parlour offered.
A sigh leaving her lips, Aurora's eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, no mask of her usual cunning ways composing her face with the game of wits and underlying meanings she so usually played. Only a sense of naked vulnerability and exhaustion coating her features, as she turned to Tommy from her spot next to the remaining open door, watching him make himself comfortable in the opposing chair beside the fire. "Tommy, it's late." She tempted, staring at the side of his head as he hunched forward in his chair, hands brought to his chin while his elbows rested on his knees.
The sight conjuring many thoughts of a curious intent, that despite herself Aurora was having trouble to ignore. The inner workings of the man in front of her begging more and more questions out of her with each passing moment she spends in his overwhelming presence.
"I need a drink." He muttered lowly, his ice blue eyes for once not latching onto hers with a deep ferocity that she denies makes her heart stamper in her chest just that little bit faster. Instead he remained looking forward, his line of gaze landing on a rather insignificant piece of wallpaper that Aurora doubted was truly registering behind his cold gangsta eyes.
