TROUBLE ━━━━━━━
(shelby sister!oc x peaky blinders)
Peaky Blinders, season one - six
━━━━━━━
IN WHICH, Clara Shelby must
come to terms with the fact
that life is changing for her
and her ragtag family.
( extended summary inside )
━━━...
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☆
CLARA SHELBY OFTEN PRIDED HERSELF ON HER KNOWLEDGE of the world around her. She prided herself on knowing the ins and outs of Birmingham and every single inch of road that led out of the city. She'd spent so much of her youth walking from place to place or riding her horse out of the city bounds, that naturally, every inch embedded itself in her mind. The roads were familiar, as were the fields beyond the city. Cannon was also familiar with the routes usually taken so when Clara had saddled and reined him up to ride him, he knew where she was heading.
She'd arrived back from London after spending the day with Nadia and within the hour she decided to take Cannon out to escape the city. She missed her horse and the feeling that came with riding him.
The wind whipped her loose hair around her face as it swept through the countryside, sending surges of fresh grass smells and clean air. The feeling of indescribable and palpable liberty flowed through her frame, from her wild hair to her cold fingertips. It was a feeling that freed every desire and longing allowing the girl to embrace every last second of it.
Clara found that although she loved the hustle and bustle of her home and the streets of London, she had an affinity for the countryside. The roads felt like home. They held a certain flare of nostalgia, each road representing a time in her life. She supposed it came from her family's roots. She could still remember being little and being taken on spontaneous trips to the middle of nowhere in the family Vardo. Whilst she couldn't remember a lot of those times clearly and certainly, she had flashes and vague flickers of memories from those trips.
Clara remembered the smell of dewy grass being tread on in the early morning. She remembered the roaring fire that she would dance around, usually on Arthur or Tommy's toes, or being held under the arms and spun around by John. She remembered the strong and wilful horses that led them, both of their gaits steady and unwavering.
She remembered her mother.
Sometimes it was hard to picture her. It was hard to remember moments spent in her presence. You see, Clara remembered snippets of the past, but they were usually prompted by photographs. She could remember vague details, but she had been four when her mother had died. Her memory wasn't strong enough to maintain memories of importance. What she could remember of her mother was little but prominent. She could remember her mother's long hair, hair quite like her own. Her mother had never cut it. Aunt Pol had been the one to explain that the Shelby mother's hair tied her to her past and allowed her to feel young. Clara had vowed to honour the woman and to never cut her hair as short as the fashion of the era, to leave it long and tangled.
It only felt fair.
Clara could also remember her mother's voice. It wasn't that clear anymore. Now, it was reduced to a mere hum, but she knew the frequency and tone. She remembered being on one of the family's spontaneous trips to the countryside and listening to her mother sing. The woman had sung a lullaby in Shelta, it was sweet and lulled the girl by the fire. When she was younger and craving her deceased mother, Clara could swear she could hear the lullaby as she struggled to fall asleep. It was soft and comforting in a way like no other. She liked to think of was a sign from her mother rather than her overactive imagination.
