#muse; sabina loveridge

[ourbleakmidwinters]

✥ Spellwork

Having to leave the city to see Sabina Loveridge was precisely why several years ago Tommy had offered her a sizable sum of money to be at the disposable of the Peaky Blinders-- more accurately, his disposal. No one else knew the details of what the girl was capable of, and Tommy himself knew that there was far more she could do then she would ever let on-- even John was seemingly unaware with just how powerful she was. Her exact intention, he assumed.

Naturally, she had refused. He had known that she would when he had made the offer-- no born and bred gypsy would confine themselves to the walls of a city. But he had presented it as a precedent. 

Tommy forced the pedal down, urging the car go quicker than was possible. He saw the particular field he was looking for in the distance, caravans and tents adding dots of colour to the horizon. His hands gripped the steering wheel hard. 

But as the car slowed down, and he rolled it off the road, onto the grass, the coolness that Tommy exhibited in face of any discussion returned itself to his very veins. 

Children began to run around the vehicle, their laughs and shrieks going unnoticed as he stepped out, and made his way to the familiar lodgings. No watchmen, no rifles, no pushing through, no inspections. But for once, it wasn’t because of who he was. It was because who she was. 

He knocks, and then enters without waiting, as was customary. There was no entering the caravan unless she had intention of being seen. As he lays his eyes on the brunette, the familiar bemusement sets in. Sabina was unassuming-- almost frail looking at the wrong angle. But it was her eyes that revealed her. 

Hair swept up to sit at the base of her neck, she sat in a loose-fitting dress that had once been red, barefoot, her hands overturning tarot cards with a frown. Tommy stands, waiting for her to look up. 

“I thought I had made it clear to John you should come right away.” Her eyes flick up to meet his. 

He clears his throat. “I came as quickly as I could--” 

“Sit.” She waves to the space across from her, the other end of small round table occupying a large portion of her living quarters. 

He pauses at her interruption, and regards her momentarily, before stepping to the table, and taking the demanded seat. She sets down the cards in her hands, and lays her hands flat on the table’s surface. Again, their eyes meet. 

“Tommy-- I know you’re believer.” It’s the distinct lack of her usual abrasive tone that brings his nerves to attention. “Not like all the widows, or rich folk looking for some meaning in their lives-- not even like Polly.” He waits for her to continue. “You know that there are far worse things than cards, and tea, and visions. And I think you know that there are far worse things than me. And even you.” So maybe John was right. Maybe she really was scared. 

“There are-- things, coming here Tommy. That’s what I saw this morning, with John. But--” She looks down, her fingers stretching to keep control of her hands. “I knew that one day, somebody-- some thing, would come for me. But it doesn’t make sense. What I saw-- doesn’t make any sense at all.” He can hear the anger in her voice, grating at every word. At what exactly, Tommy didn’t know, but he continued to regard her carefully. 

“If they want me, fine. I can take care of myself. But--” Sabina’s eyes, dark and full of years somehow, meet Tommy’s ice blues. “They want you. And John--” There it was, her voice cracking, as she forces herself to finish the thought. “--they want bloody Birmingham. All of it. And a girl-- some girl I’ve never seen before--” Tommy had heard enough. 

“Sabina, what are you talking about? Who’s coming?” 

She scoffs, shaking her head. “You know that’s not how this works. Even for you Tommy. “ 

His jaw tightens, and it takes all his self-control to maintain seated. He had half a mind to leave- to tell John she was just mad, and there was no use in worrying over it. But that was the trouble, wasn’t it. Tommy was worried. 

“So you don’t know who it is, or what they want exactly, or when this’ll happen, yeah? I’ll take it you don’t know what we can do about it either then.” 

“There’s nothing for you to do about it. I’ll deal with them.” 

He can’t stop the low laugh, a scoff really, from making itself known. “You want me to do nothing, about someone coming after my family, and my city--”

“John isn’t going to survive this, Tommy.” It was with that knowledge, that Tommy went silent. His mind stopped spinning-- in fact, it seemed the world itself had stopped spinning momentarily.

“None of us are going to survive it, as it stands.” Sabina adds, and for the first time since Tommy had entered the space, she shifts her body, and leans across the table. “But you know things can change-- what I see changes. But you have to let me deal with this. They’ve come here for me. Why they stay-- what they want after that-- it doesn’t matter. Because they came here for me. I’m what brought this darkness here, and I’m what has to destroy it. And in the mean time, keep John, and the kids,-- everyone innocent of all of this, safe.” Once more, her fingers begin to run over the cards laid out. “That includes you.” 

“And how do you intend on doing that, all the way out here?” 

“Leave that to me, and I will make you a promise-- as long as you’re alive and well, I will be too. And they need me alive and well.” 

He says nothing, his expression almost emotionless if not for the coolness emitting from his edges. “And what if something happens to you?” 

“We’re as good as dead anyways, Tommy. You remember that.” If there was anything that Tommy didn’t need reminding of, it was that. 

“I’ll need something of yours, and of everyone’s in the family. Just blood family, yeah?” She looks away, back out through the little window into the world. “Have John bring it all to me. Then it’ll be done.” 

The idea of involving his brother deeper into this trouble would have been a more disconcerting thought if Tommy hadn’t already lost his brother, and himself, once before. But he had. And now it wasn’t about thriving anymore, in the wake of it all. It was about living to spite death itself. 

“If there’s trouble coming, you need to tell John at ease. Or none of this is going to matter.” He motions, almost with a sense of disgust at her table of cards. Tommy stands abruptly, fingers tugging down at the lapels of jacket, as he makes for the door. 

“Tommy--” He pauses, without looking back at her. 

“Beware of the blonde. She’ll steal the heart you forget you have.”