undergrounds | Five Years Later...

Five Years Later...

A lot can change in five years. Students who were at Redbright have now started their careers. People have moved out, moved in, started a new life together or apart. Some move on from the city while others return to it. But while the lives of its residents continue to grow and change, London remains as it has ever been: a focal point for magical power.

A tentative peace
The last five years have not been without conflict, both internal and external. The vampires have played with the politics of in-fighting and backstabbing. The werewolves have overthrown their leader and chosen a new alpha. The witches have suffered one scandal after another. And the fae have quietly engineered a small change here, a personal revenge there, until finally with Redbright and Hillingdon acting as neutral parties a peace agreement was reached between Circle Daybreak, the Islington Nest and the East End Pack. Their territories are still beholden to the same rules (e.g. vampires are still forbidden to enter East End territory and vice versa) but they are no longer in open conflict. Small steps, perhaps, but positive ones.

A delicate balance
The year is 2022. The balance of power in the city is now evenly split between the East End Pack, Islington Nest and Circle Daybreak, thanks largely to the rise of the werewolves and the new President Laura Roslin who simultaneously holds the post of Werewolf Representative.

Samantha Okeke lost her position as Witch Representative following allegations of corruption, and has been replaced by Diphylleia "Dee" Absin, a much more co-operative member of the Night Council. While Samantha has retained her title of Mother of Witches, there are rumours that she lost her powers during a confrontation with a powerful fae. Circle Daybreak firmly denies all such speculation.

The connections between the Redbright Institute and the Hillingdon Clan have grown stronger since the former is now perceived to be a more neutral force rather than tied to the Night Council, although Hillingdon certainly still has the less clean-cut image of the two.

Meanwhile, the Seelie and Unseelie Court have largely withdrawn from public life in the mortal realm except in isolated corners, though they claim the right to go where they please throughout the city. Consequently, there are no barriers preventing travel between the realms, which seems for now to be an acceptable compromise.

And after all, politics is the art of compromise.

Looking ahead
All in all, the vampire and fae presence in the city has reduced as the vampires move around and the fae decide that if they're invited it can't be that great a party anyway. The number of witches has recovered thanks to an amnesty allowing those who were once members of Circle Midnight to return (though the faction itself has not reappeared).

The biggest change that has been noticed first by staff at the Redbright Institute however is the increasing number of meta humans, in particular young meta humans, being discovered in the city. Often these are humans with no knowledge of the supernatural developing their powers for the first time. The reason why has yet to be discovered...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

GEN

Nancy could not be further from the girl she was five years ago. Five years ago, she’d had a boyfriend that never dreamed of laying a hand on her, a disposable income, a beautiful flat, and some powerful allies. Now, Nancy still has a boyfriend, but Bill Sikes is far worse than Cooper could ever be. With Bill’s return came leaving the lavish lifestyle that Cooper was able to indulge in. It had been a near impossible choice, but what she had with Bill always would be the most important thing in her life. What they had was… well, it was magic.

Suffice to say, Nancy’s grown increasingly quiet in most of her circles of friends, eventually fading out entirely. Though Fagin’s death has done great things for her, there are other bad forces in her life, and there always would be. If Nancy’s spotted, it’s usually late at night in some down-trodden bar or alley, and if you’ve kept in touch, it’s probably all due to you.

Still, however long it has been, Nancy will try her best to make some time to chat.

FOR COOPER. BREAKUP.

Nancy had put it off for far too long. They’d always known their relationship had an expiration date. It just happened that today was it. Tomorrow was the day Bill was getting out of jail. Eames had told her, counseled her. But Nancy knew what she had to do, as she’d always known it. She and Bill were meant to be together. There was something deep and magnetic, ancient and primitive that drove the two of them to each other. Nancy was the only one who could keep Bill on a metaphorical leash. He listened to her. He listened to her as a wolf. That meant something.

The last time she’d seen him had been so long ago. She’d just been a girl, never thought anything was going to happen when she’d kissed him before running off to get to work. He’d been arrested that very night, caught red-fanged. Nancy’d come home to solemn faces in the den, telling her the news: Bill wasn’t coming home.

That had been five years ago, and now, now he was finally being released. Things were going to go back to normal now. She’d be at his side, they’d get married, have children, everything she couldn’t have with Cooper. Everything she’d always wanted.

But in order for that to happen, she had to break up with Cooper.

This time, it’s Nancy waiting for him, when he comes home. She’s had too much to drink, it’s clear in her eyes, in her face, in the way she can’t look at him.

“Cooper- John,” his first name, reserved only for special occasions. “You- you know I love you.” Her voice was already starting to crack. This wasn’t going to be good. This wasn’t going to be good at all. She couldn’t handle the tears, the emotions. She should have done this weeks ago.

She should have done a lot of things.

FOR COOPER. AWKWARD RUN-IN.

Honestly, Nancy’s exhausted. It’s clear from the circles under her eyes, visible only under layers of foundation and magic, illusions keeping her face in place. It’s a lot of hard work, being her. She’s up at all hours of the night with Bill, work is hell, and she’s been drinking even more. So much so to the point that she’s sure her blood is more gin than actual blood at this point.

There are a few good things about Bill’s return. Perhaps the only one is that, though he’d turned her back to the streets, she was no longer in the business of blood. Bill wouldn’t have it- he’d been furious to find out about her ex-lovers, raking his claws over their scars, making them his own. It had been romantic, she’d decided. Bill was erasing the mistakes and pain, replacing it with himself, right?

There’s a noise at the end of the darkened street, the low gunning of a motorcycle, and Nancy looks up from where she’s just sent a text to Bill, telling him when she’ll be home. Her eyes are wide when to her surprise, she recognizes the engine. There’s nothing else that sounds like that in all of London.

That’s Cooper’s bike.

Without waiting for him to recognize her, she breaks into a run.

FOR EAMES. ALSO BREAKUP.

Nancy was a good girl. The best, Bill had said. Which was why she did what she was told, if she wanted to or not. And she did not want to have this conversation with Eames.

Ever since Bill returned, Eames had made it very very clear he hated the man and what he did and represented, and undoubtedly the abuse he visited on Nancy. And Bill had made it very very clear that he hated the fae and what he did and represented and didn’t trust him for an instant. He didn’t like the relationship Nancy had with her older friend, and it was easy to guess where it went from there.

Honestly, Nancy had just hoped to fade away into the background. Become a stranger to the people she cared about most. It worked on most people, when Bill came back, when she started spending all her time with him. But Eames was not most people.

So today, when he stopped by the small flat Bill owned in the East End, Nancy was waiting for him, drink in hand, a thick envelope in the other.

—
[hmu if you want something specific! I will do so many threads.]

Edited 2017-10-11 23:59 (UTC)

To be strictly fair, it's not that Eames hates what Bill does per se. The man's a brute and a theif but it'd be hypocritical of Eames to judge him for that. And a personality clash he can live with. The things he can't stand about Bill run much deeper. The way he's the sole architect of his own misery, refusing to grow, to see things for what they are. Pulling Nancy back into squalor and putting her on the streets so he can control her because he doesn't trust her.

And that's to say nothing of the physical abuse. Eames had been fucking livid the first time he saw the claw marks, the bruises. And Nancy's protests only made him angrier — as if love made this okay.

So, no. He can't stand Bill. And he's well aware the feeling's mutual, but Eames also can't find it in himself to give a single shit about the wolf's feelings.

When he visits, it's to see Nancy. Largely to make sure she's still alive at this point. It's disappointing to watch her fall back to this when she'd grown so much. That she'd let him drag her back into the muck that she'd hated so much.

But fine. He can't force her to do anything, Eames has always been adamant about not forcing Nancy to do anything, even if he knows well it's best for her. But he can check up on her, and that's why he's here.

Nancy opened the door when the knock came, not bothering to put on any illusions. She knew by now that Eames could see right through them, see her situation for what it really was. A few silver hairs catch in the light as Nancy takes a drink of her straight gin.

"Gin or whiskey?" She asks, not even moving in to hug him. She can't hug him. She has to keep a distance from him or she won't be able to do this. She knows herself. And even if she could hug him, her ribs were bruised and he would feel the way she would flinch away from the warmth when she was usually so eager. She'd wanted to keep that away from him, much the same way she'd wanted to keep all of the details of her relationship away from him.

There had been a reason for the illusions, after all.

The lack of a hug immediately sets Eames on edge, usually he couldn't stop Nancy going in for one if he wrapped himself in barbed wire.

Something's wrong, and he's not going to entertain the idea of this being a casual social call when whatever this is is going on.

"What is it?" Eames' voice is hard, eyes cagaloguing any visible new bruises, and he folds his arms over his chest.

Nancy immediately tenses, noticing the way Eames stands, how he looks at her. She immediately takes another long drink, finishing her glass. This is it. She has to say it. There's no use dancing around the topic when she knows what she has to do.

"You can't come 'round here anymore." She doesn't even make eye contact when she says it.

"Okay." He's not happy about it, not with the way Nancy's pulled away over the last few years, but it's Bill's home as much as hers and if he won't abide Eames being here then there's really shit all he can do about it.

He can tell that's not the end of it though, and Eames folds his arms over his chest. It's not tough to guess where this is going, but Nancy's going to have to say it. Call him petty, but Eames has no intention of making this easy for her, and he fixes her with a hard, expectant stare.

No, it's not the end, and Nancy silently curses him for making this harder. Can't he just guess what she's going to say and leave? She didn't want to do this. Eames had been a constant for her in the last seven years. Someone to go to, someone who cared and was willing to help.

She closes her eyes.

"and I can't see you, anymore."

Her voice threatens to crack.

There it is. The only part of it that's a surprise is how long it took, but Eames is extremely displeased regardless.

"Bill says, right?" His tone borders on mocking — in his opinion the only person who can tell him not to talk to someone is the person in question, and Bill's words coming out of Nancy's mouth don't count — and he makes a noise in the back of his throat that coild almost be called a laugh, "don't think much for yourself these days, do you?"

There's a dark flutter in her stomach when his words hit her ears, and Nancy recoils slightly. "I think for myself plenty." She sniffs a little.

"Look, it's not like I need your protection anymore." She didn't want to say it, but if he was going to make this hard, the best thing she could do was try to make the break as easy as it could be for both of them.

Eames scoffs and steps in closer, curls a finger under her chin and tilts her head up so one of her bruises catches the light. Clear as ever on her pale skin.

"Is that right," he murmurs, and he doesn't let go. He's looking at her now, really looking. Gaze piercing as he registers every premature wrinkle and faded scar.

Every muscle in her body tenses as Eames touches her. She sets her jaw, looking up at him, glarring as he touches her. She doesn't step away.

"That's right."

"When he hurts you," Eames tilts her head, turning it this way and that, as if assessing a toy for damage rather than a person, "when he carves you up and you tell yourself you deserve it..."

He brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, strokes her cheek with the back of his hand and tuts lightly, "how much time do you spend convincing yourself that you're safe with him."

She's far too frozen to raise her glass to her lips, trembling just softly under Eames' touch.

"He loves me," she says firmly. "And he has, for most of my life, which is more than I can say for anyone else." She shifts her jaw slightly, as if clenching it tighter will help her.

She clenches her fist. "He's my familiar- I know I'm safe with him."

"Love doesn't make you safe. Being a familiar means shit all when you're too scared to order him about."

Because she never would, and they both know it. He might be her familiar, but he's also the one in control. And it's laughable she could consider herself safe looking how she does.

Eames sighs when he withdraws his hands to his pockets and shakes his head, disappointed. "You could've been so much more than this."

"I'm not afraid of him. Of all of London, I'm the only one not afraid of him." Her words are sharp, coming through clenched teeth. Bill Sikes was a name that brought fear to so many. But he was her Bill. Hers. No one else saw him the way she did.

What Eames says next is so casual that it takes a moment for the weight of the words to sink in. Wasn't it just six years ago they'd gone out to celebrate their victory against Norrell? How proud he'd been of her, then? He'd bought her jewelry.

They'd had to sell the emeralds.

"I Have no idea what you're talking about." She was still Nancy. She was just... back where she'd always belonged.

"No?" She knows exactly what he means. "Nancy Viola Bellrose, who needed a name and a bank account to get paid for a job she didn't hate. That didn't make her hate herself."

Does she still use the name? Probably not. Eames expects she's fallen off the grid since Bill came back, but he's decided not to check.

"How fast did he put you back on the streets again? He might love you, deep and honest, but he'll never trust you." He sighs, "you know that."

Nancy looks away from him, down at her feet. "I never hated myself," she tells him, though she can't look at him. Not right now. Not when every piece of Nancy Viola Bellrose sat in a manilla envelope on her table, waiting for her to give it back to Eames.

"He trusts me. I make more money this way. It's safer now, anyway- I'm not selling blood." Few vampires wanted you when you were covered in the scent of a wolf, anyway.

Eames barks a laugh, sharp and sudden and unkind.

"He controls you."

There's an edge to his voice, low and harsh and it'd certainly speak to danger if he were talking to anyone else. "You can lie to yourself, but I've been twisting untruths out of honest statements for centuries. I see right fucking through you."

She flinches away from his laugh.

"You've never given anyone I've ever cared for a chance, have you?" Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, turning her eyes on Eames. "Not Cesare, not Bill, certainly never Cooper. And why is that, Eames, hmm?" She tosses her hair over her shoulder, a vain attempt to try to gain some ground.

"Are you trying to keep me safe? Or are you just a jealous old man?"

"Please, your naivety is excruciating." He shakes his head, thoroughly unbothered by the accusation. He hated them all, but for how frequently he suggested it he never actually tried to make her leave Cooper. Never tried to end her friendship with Cesare.

"You mistake a capacity for kindness for being the same as goodness, as if being nice to you makes somebody worth you." He shakes his head with a heavy sigh, "I suppose I should've expected as much, after all that's what you are, isn't it?"

"That's what I-" Nancy drops her jaw for a moment, looking at him. "If you're going to call me a whore, Eames, at least say it to my god-damned face."

"But it won't work- if you're trying to shame me. Not even Redbright herself managed that one- I know exactly what I am."

"I'm not calling you a whore." Of all people she knows, Eames is the last person who'd try to shame her. He's always been honest with her-- hell, he even helped her get higher class clients. He briefly looks offended that she'd think he would, but it passes quickly.

"What you are, love, is a victim." It's definitely an insult, practically a slur with the venom in it, "for all that brilliance and strength you've got in you, it's like you can't fucking wait for someone to use you up and beat you down."

That's the tragedy of it; she's so fucking brilliant and she's never been able to see it. And now here they are.

Nancy's upper lip curls back slightly at the word victim. She wasn't a victim- she always fought back when she could. She could give Bill hell when she wanted- granted he only had to take her in his arms and choke her out in a matter of seconds to end it, but she could.

"That's what I expect. It's no better'n I deserve."

Eames throws his hands up, exasperated and disbelieving. He feels like they've had one version of this conversation or another a million times over.

"What is so wrong with you that this is what you deserve?" Because he doesn't understand how anyone could believe they deserve this shit, "because the woman I know is smart and quick and brimming with untapped potential and so unflinchingly kind it makes me want to question your intelligence sometimes. Not some animal that needs to be kept in line."

His words tug at something deep inside her, and the tip of her nose starts to sting. Nancy blinks back tears- those are some of the nicest things anyone's ever said about her. But she shakes her head.

"I'm broken, dirty- I'm a liar- I don't listen sometimes, stubborn and unruly. Mouthy- God- Fagin once said if I used my mouth as much as my cunt we'd all be bloody rich-" She has to laugh at the memory now, remembering the laughter the comment had created- "and I'm selfish as they come."

Five Years Later...

Nancy | Witch | crap I think she's East End Pack by now maybe?

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cw: the c word

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