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'where the two reunite, whether it be for a good reason or not'
EVEN AFTER CRYING LOUISE SHELBY IS STILL A SIGHT for sore eyes, she always has been. Even when she sat, sobbing over her older brother's death after the funeral being held only that morning. She was younger by three years but with John's baby face many would argue that they looked like twins, her hair being one of the lighter shades out of the six Shelby children.
Louise is extremely close with Arthur, her, John and him used to be a little trio; a troublesome one at that. They were most protective over her growing up, especially with the incident of Paul Hartridge, let's just say he was in hospital for a little while, lucky to be alive.
Having always been a kind soul, Louise was a perfect candidate to bully or take advantage of but what many of the offenders didn't know was that behind her was her brothers. Her brothers that were certainly not the same. It's odd for a Shelby to have the nature that Louise does, after being ruled over by Tommy with an iron fist, after Polly trying to install strength and confidence into her, after John tried to toughen her up, after Ada tried to teach her how to not get her heart broken, after Arthur stopped being as affectionate during one of his addictions and after Finn being too blunt and hurting her feelings.
None of it changed her kindness or sensitivity and it never will. She doesn't do snow, only smokes in moments of worry and she likes the odd drink here and there but can go without. It's a promise she made to herself to not become cold like Tommy, harsh like Poll, violent like Arthur, overly cocky like John, distant like Ada or feel the need to impress others like Finn. She was and still is going to be herself, no matter what her brothers or their enemies throw at her.
She was sat, sobbing as her hand rested effortlessly in the pond, the water being the only thing making her feel like it was all real. Not some sort of nightmare she would soon wake from. The water being the only thing keeping her awake, exhausted from all the tears.
Shivers crawled over her body as she felt physically ill at the reoccurring thought of John being shot mercilessly, the thought of Esme's blood curling screams as she watched her husband be brutally murdered, right in front of her.
Unlike her family, Louise never received a black hand, it was odd and still lies a mystery to all the other Shelby's. A part of her believes it to be because of their acquaintance all those many years ago however none of them were to know about it for Louise never spoke a word of it, to any of them.
Louise closed her eyes, embracing the small whisper of the wind as it delicately caressed her skin, embracing the chill that pulsated through her from the bitterness of the pond's temperature. Grass sprouted out from either side of her body, her legs together as they folded to her side, sat in a ladylike manner even though no one was around. Flowers and moss snaked up and around the small cement statues that decorated the outskirts of the pond, keeping it company when it was too cold for anyone to be out.
