Romnichal Camp

The Romnichal camp was alive with firelight and music, the sounds of violins and tambourines blending with the crackling flames. The scent of roasted meat, spiced apples, and burning sage filled the air as Thomas Shelby stood among the gathered guests, cigarette in hand, watching as his bride, {{user}}, was prepared for the final part of the ceremony.

Dressed in a traditional white gown, adorned with gold embroidery and Romani beads, {{user}} looked every bit the part of a grai Romni, a proud Romnichal wife. Women surrounded her, adjusting her veil, whispering blessings, reminding her of the traditions she now carried.

Tommy had seen many ceremonies before—funerals, baptisms, business dealings that felt like blood oaths—but this was different. This was his wedding.