The Underground Mods (
undergroundmods) wrote in
undergrounds2017-10-09 09:30 pm
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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Samantha Okeke lost her position as Witch Representative following allegations of corruption, and has been replaced by Diphylleia "Dee" Absin, a much more co-operative member of the Night Council.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Meanwhile, the Seelie and Unseelie Court have largely withdrawn from public life in the mortal realm except in isolated corners, though they claim the right to go where they please throughout the city.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...
Eames || Unseelie Court || Fae
He still hates his Lordship and he probably always will, but at least it's not an active pain right now.
Besides that, the mysterious death of an old friend has really been a boon for business. It takes a little more creativity these days to get around the lack of anonymity, but whatever. It means if you've got some stolen goods or goods that need stealing or information to trade; he's your man.
Also if you just wanna hook up with a hot dude (or hot lady, sometimes.) He's got his wonderful dog and excellent boyfriend who lives with him, but, you know. What's a monogamy.
[hmu if you want to do something a little more specific!]
Dinner! - Arthur/Lancelot/Faolan
He's put out the dining table, the kitchen is spacious enough for it, and the door to the garden is slightly ajar for Boxer to go in and out as he pleases. (The door to the hallway, however, is staying closed. Just in case someone decides to be a messy boy.)
There's a fancy little appetiser ready to go (stuffed mushrooms and an onion soup,) and some fancy lamb chops that Eames will deal with when the time seems right. Bottles of red wine and a case of beer. Eames is trying to straddle the casual-formal boundary with this whole thing, like a casual hangout with fancy food and clothes.
Though honestly he'd be happy enough just using the nook by the windows.
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"Lily used to be like this," he's saying, "but she grew out of it after she met enough people and realised they were fine. I think she will too, but it's still early days. She likes Faolan, at least, so I know she has good taste."
He winks playfully and takes a sip of his beer, turning to look slightly at Sadie who wags her tail uncertainly at him. Hello, Lancelot. Is she being good? She hopes she is. It's very busy here, and she's not sure what she's meant to be doing. She's sitting, is that good? She hopes so!
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Honestly the appetizers are a little fancy for him. The whole thing is a little fancy for him, but he's been invited and Lancelot seems to be enjoying himself so far, so he's hoping the alcohol will settle his social anxieties soon enough. (Not too much though, he's learned that lesson the hard way thanks.) He had excused himself for a moment to fish around in the selection of drinks before he managed to select a beer for himself and trail his way back to his seat next to Lancelot. Popping the drink open and taking a healthy swallow before holding a hand down for Sadie to come to him, if she'd like. He'll stay put now, really he will.
"Talking about me?" he says, as he settles. "I hope it wasn't anything incriminating..." He'd only caught the last sentence as he'd joined them but he's 99% positive that he's talking about the dog. Well. 95%.
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He's nursing a beer at the moment, watching Boxer cautiously try to figure out Lily and Sadie with an amused smirk. Boxer's improved so much even since Arthur first met him and it's nice to watch him approach this situation with relatively low anxiety.
"More about the dog," Arthur says to Faolan as the other man returns. "Lancelot figures she has good taste."
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To be fair, it was trained into him a little to help curb any anxiety or aggression with nee people, but also he's a big baby even at 8 years old who wants attention all the time.
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(She isn't, and is mostly trying to lead Boxer in chases around the garden. At least they'll tire each other out.)
"That's a good trait to have, though! Well, perhaps not in a guard dog, but in a pet it's good."
It means they're less inclined to barking matches when walking in the park, anyway.
"Sure you're going to stay happy with just the one?" A little teasing now, since Lancelot is self aware of his own dog problem. He looks over at Faolan and smirks a little. "I convinced him Lily needed a friend."
Or, Lancelot supposed, perhaps the dog itself helped with the convincing. Sadie has charmingly shy puppydog eyes.
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3am on a cold rainy night
Outside the thunder rolled, and if you asked her, Nancy wasn't sure how she'd gotten to Eames' neighborhood, drenched from head to toe. Fresh bruises obscured her eyesight with swelling, her makeup running from tears or rain. She was stupid to come here, but she had nowhere else to go. Fagin was dead, she couldn't go there. She couldn't burden the remaining boys. Cooper was in America, Lydia was going to be a disaster, so that left Eames.
The irony is, as she knocks on Eames' door, sniffling, is that she was in this same position for Norrell. But now... Now all of this was real.
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Nancy's magic is familliar, Eames recognises it before he sees her face, and it does nothing to dampen his mood when he opens the door. Upper lip pulled in a sneer as he greets her with a "what do you want," with all the warmth of an iceberg. Boxer trying to get past his legs to see someone he hasn't seen in a while now. Not that Eames will let him.
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"I'm sorry- I didn't know where else to go-" She's shaking like a leaf, her breath heavy with alcohol.
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"That's too bad for you-- down." Boxer lets out a whine at the order — Eames never stops him from meeting people unless they're bad, and Nancy's not bad! She's a friend!! — but he sits obediently, head lowered. Another whine as Eames begins closing the door.
"If that's it, I'm going to go back to bed."
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Boxer's whine sends a dagger through her heart. She can't even bend her knees to pet him before Eames orders him back. she watches the dog retreat, the way he hangs his head, guilty.
"Eames- please!" She cries, sticking her foot between the door and the frame. "I need a place to stay. Just for the night, tomorrow I'll be out of your hair. I'll be quiet as a mouse you won't even know I'm here. please!"
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He looks down at her foot like it's personally offended him, waiting for her to move it. As far as he's concerned, she's not getting in this house. The last time she was welcome here was years ago.
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It's time to leave Bill. For real. Hopefully. Tomorrow.
A few flushes and a lot of teeth brushing later, Nancy began pouring over her potion books between sips of whiskey-laced coffee. It didn't take her too long to come across the potion she wanted, and half an hour later, a vial of clear liquid stood before her. Frowning at it, she lifted the vial to her lips and spit into it. Immediately, the liquid turned a bright blue.
Nancy's knees all but gave out as she dropped the vial on to the floor. She could hardly hear it over her tears as she leaned against the counter for support. "Fuck," she whispered to herself, over and over again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Forgetting the coffee, Nancy took a long swig straight from the bottle of whiskey. As the liquid cleared her throat, she realized exactly what she needed to do.
Taking the bottle with her, she began the trek over to Eames' home.
It was early afternoon by the time she arrived, knocking on the door. Hopefully, he'd be in. Hopefully. Because if she didn't do this now- if he didn't answer the door- she was never going to be able to come back here. Never going to be able to leave him.
But she couldn't bring a child into this world, not if she was going to stay with Bill. And this could be her last chance to make her dream of motherhood come true.
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Eames opens the door, still in the jogging bottoms and hoodie he'd thrown on for the walk, and squints at her in confusion. Taking a moment to take in how distressed she looks, the bottle in her hand, and glances past her onto the street before he steps aside to let her into the house. He's suddenly extremely glad Arthur had stuff to deal with today so he's not here for this.
"What happened?" Because it's always something.
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Once the door is shut, she looks up at Eames with watery eyes. She doesn't have makeup on, no glamour or anything- it's useless around a man that can see through it anyway. "I've got to leave him."
She takes a drink from the bottle. She's going to need a lot more where this came from, if she was going to go through with this.
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"You're..." Okay, good. That's good. Eames nods and starts walking again. The kettle flicking on as soon as it's in his line of sight. They're going to need tea. And whiskey. A lot of both.
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"I don't want to- I don't want to. But I have to. I've got to." There's another drink as she stares straight ahead.
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"What's brought this on?" Considering she wouldn't even leave him when he beat her half to death, something must've changed.
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remember that time Nancy tried to talk to Bill?
She'd wanted to. God she had wanted to. She'd spent two days staying at the Angelo, drinking and weighing her choices between appointments at the spa. She had to do this, for the life of their child. She knew what would happen if she went back to him. He'd be furious he left, furious he kept the child from her...
But it was the New Moon, she realized. He was his most docile then, unable to transform. Perhaps she could talk to him that way, she'd thought. So that night she'd gone back to their flat.
The next day, Nancy woke for the second time to find herself in a hospital bed, her eyes barely able to open. Every bone in her body ached- they said she'd had several ribs broken, her collar bone, cheekbone, nose. Her jaw had been spared, but there was heavy bruising around her neck and head that kept her off-center and unable to fully speak. They'd done their best to save her- and they had, all but sure she'd been a gonner when she was dropped off at A&E.
But Nancy survived, though she remained in intensive care. Her child... That was another story.
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Hell, maybe he's wrong. Maybe she didn't make the dumbest fucking choice imaginable and go back to that shitty little flat for some ridiculous reason. Maybe it wasn't even Bill that did this to her, maybe it's some other piece of shit who needs to be snuffed out of existence.
It's a long while before they let Eames in to see her, after tests and emergency procedures and what he imagines to have been some incredibly distressing conversations with the doctors. They might not have let him in at all, but it certainly helped thet he greased the wheels a little to get Nancy a private room to herself.
She's asleep when he comes in, but that's fine, Eames takes a seat with his arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his face. He can wait.
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Luckily, Nancy got her wish, and had been sleeping for at least twenty minutes before Eames came in. With Eames' eyes on her, Nancy starts to stir. Looking through blackened eyes nearly swollen shut, she can make out who's looking at her. Who's disappointment she can practically feel radiating off of him. Her stomach twists, and she fights the urge to wretch.
She looks down, turning her face away from Eames. She can't look at him. "Don't. Don't- don't say anything." Already her voice is cracking with emotions. "I already know-" exactly what he was going to say. She was an idiot. What did she think was going to happen? She deserved it. He'd risked everything to help save her and she threw it all away. She threw it all away and lost her one chance at happiness. At having a family.
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"What happened."
It's not a question, it's a demand for an explanation. Some answer that could make this make sense to him, instead of being almost as tragic in its idiocy as its outcome.
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Then she has to see as well as feel how infuriated Eames was.
Her lower lip trembles. "It was the New Moon," she reasons, more to herself than to Eames. "I thought I'd be safe- I wanted to explain things. He had to be so confused- so upset. I owed him an explanation-" A sob wracks through her thin body, and she winces, gingerly touching her broken ribs.
"--You once told me I don't deserve any of what I get- Well, I deserve this."
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"And you thought, what? He'd curl up in a ball and listen patiently? Has he ever, in the years you've known him, sat and waited calmly for an explanation from you when he's mad?" Eames pauses all of a moment, quickly deciding he doesn't need an answer to that question when he's fairly certain he already knows the answer. "He's weaker not docile. Do you have any idea how lucky you are you're even alive right now?"
This time he waits for an answer, though Eames expects he won't like the one he gets, if he gets one at all.
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