It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THE WEE HOURS OF THE DAY—the sun was still asleep, yet Mercedes managed to wake up early. She is most definitely not a morning person, but a nightmare had to ruin her sleep. In her dreams, a certain man that goes by the name of Thomas Shelby killed her. She was drowning in an empty red sea, and Thomas was the only one who could save her yet he left her to die. And he watched with his stoic face as she struggled, as she called out his name until she finally submerged.
It felt all too real, she woke up glistening in sweat and her lungs burning as if water really filled them up. She wasn't able to go back to bed because of it. Instead of moping around, she did her best to get it out of her system.
It's been a week since her arrival but she still can't get used to the thick gray fog of small heath. The air was crisp when she left her flat, "Good mornin, luv! Off to work?" Arthur was outside their abode, cleaning the family car as he greeted her.
Mercy walked towards him with a smile, "Morning, Arthur. No, I'm still looking for a job," she replied, somehow truthfully. For the past week, all she did was stay inside her room, curled up on the bed. She was lost. Trying to find herself in the middle of her own head.
"Yeah? Why don't ya apply to The Garrison? 'M sure extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt," the oldest Shelby suggested.
"That sounds excellent but I'm afraid I do not want to indulge in my alcoholism, that's a tempting offer, I tell ya," she laughed heartily, making him grin. Witty, he thought.
She was about to bid her goodbye to Arthur when Thomas got out of their house's door, holding a bottle of milk in his hand. They exchanged looks but did not say any words. A little part of Mercy hoped he'd greet her.
"I'll go ahead, Arthur. See you lot," the woman nodded before turning her back to the two Shelby brothers.
Maybe it was the long hair or the gray suspender trousers she was wearing that steals attention from the people passing by her. It was uncommon for women to have long hair and to wear men's clothing. That didn't matter as she was comfortable in them.
"Hello? I'm here for the job as a barber," the woman said as she opened the door of a barbershop, receiving confused looks from the men working there.
The shop was relatively small as it can only attend to four customers. The mirrors against the wall and the checkered tiles were all spotless as if they had just finished cleaning the entire room.
"Are ya mad?" the bald man with a thick accent questioned her.
"No, I'm Imogen," she answered to which the chubby man laughed.
"Job's been filled, love," the bald man tried to reason with her, obviously not wanting the woman to be his employee or more like not wanting a woman to be his employee.
"I have experiences and references," Mercy handed the bald man a paper she took out from her pockets, "From King's Parlour," she added that made the chubby man looked surprised.
