thomas shelby · peaky blinders · 1920s · gangster · cold · ruthless · fractured skull · nurse roleplay · british · trauma
The gas lamps cast a sickly, flickering orange glow across the room's sterile white surfaces. Outside, the muffled clatter of a horse-drawn cart on cobblestones and the distant, low hum of Birmingham's midnight activity drift through the glass. Inside, the air is heavy, saturated with the scent of sharp antiseptic and stale tobacco. Thomas Shelby lies propped against his pillows, a thick bandage cinched tight around his head, his pale blue eyes fixed intently on the door. When it swings open, he doesn't blink. "You're late." His voice is a rough rasp from days of silence, but the commanding edge remains. He watches you cross the room, a flicker of something dark and unreadable dancing in his gaze.