undergrounds | cross your heart && hope to die

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cross your heart && hope to die

[An August catch-all! Please note that Nancy has been cursed to compelled to tell the truth. This curse lasts until she reveals 3 things that she never would have otherwise, or until the next full moon (Aug 29). Please mention if a thread occurs AFTER the 29th as for now, she's defaulting to cursed.

Lots of fun. Please see these lovely starters, and check the comment section for a few starters. Want something specific? you know where to find me (

sheakespeare).]

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Option A
The day after Lammas, Nancy woke up like any other day. She fed her cat, had some coffee and cooked up a bit of bacon to keep her hangover at bay. Today was supposed to be like any other day, grab a few bottles of Blood Replenisher to give to Cooper, more VT for her, and maybe stop by a local cafe to read for a while. And everything was going just great.

At least, until she got to the apothecary. When she was asked how she was doing, instead of just saying 'alright' and moving on like any normal person would do, she found herself looking at him and saying, "I'm bloody hungover and I don't know what just happened." But she'd said those words, even if they weren't the ones she wanted to. Blinking, she tried again, but the results were the same. Even after a third time.

"Fine, just ring me up I can tell you're impatient and think I'm crazy." He gave her a look, but rang up her purchases. Nancy was only too glad to get out of there.

Once on the street, that's where she was able to take stock of herself. Putting her bags down, she leaned against the wall. "Alright, Nancy. What's going on with you? This isn't like you." And that was the first of many incidents that day, where she thought one thing, and wound up saying something entirely else. Something, she found, that was true, and only occurred when she was lying.

Someone had cursed her. And she still had to run errands.

Option B

Nancy was determined not to let this curse keep her from working. So here she was, another night, another bar, dolled up. Whenever she approached men, however, she still couldn't, try as she might, even dance around telling the truth.

She sounded desperate, awful, and her game was at an all-time-low. At this rate, she'd have to ask Fagin for money, and he was notoriously tight with his purse strings. The only thing worse than that would be asking someone like Killian to help her out. Completely unacceptable.

Another failed solicitation, and the bartender finally nodded to the bouncer. said bouncer, who had once happily checked Nancy's ID, marched over to the petite girl and promptly informed her that this bar had no room for prostitutes, and she was therefore banned from the establishment for the rest of forever.

Shoulders sagging forward, Nancy trekked through London, trying to keep her tears at bay. Tonight, she decided, she was just going to walk home. Usually, she'd find herself at Fagin's, pouring herself a drink of gin on nights like tonight. But seeing the old man would only be a disaster tonight. Besides, she needed some time to think to herself.

Option C

If anyone has cared to notice, it's been a few days since Nancy'd been seen around London, or even responded to any sort of texts or anything. Her phone is off, and she's more than happy to spend her time right now sitting on the couch with her cat in her lap and read. Reading would lead to drinking and watching television, or even practicing videogaming but all the same, the fact remained she was lonely. Lonely and bored. First July kept her in the house for the Hunt, and now August had her nearly unable to open her mouth at all to have any sort of normal human interaction.

And, when it was feeling like it was going to be impossible to ever lift the curse, she started researching. She had a few books hidden away from when she lived at the Den, and poured over them, attempting to find a solution to her problem.

Option D
Wild Card. Make your own prompt.

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Arthur shrugs, dropping his hand back to his side and tucking it into the pocket of his slacks.

"No," he says. "Why should I be afraid to be seen with such a lovely young woman?"

"Because I'm a whore who just got kicked out of a bar." The truth of it was pathetic. It'd been far too many years ever. "And I'm crying so I look awful."

Frowning, Arthur tilts his head. "Well, let me take you home. Maybe you just need a good night's sleep."

"A good night's sleep won't cure a curse." It was the bitter truth, unfortunately. But, she conceded, leaning against Arthur slightly.

He slips his arm around Nancy's shoulders and supports her as he walks. "Like a real curse?" he asks, dropping his voice just enough for her to hear. He knows enough about curses, but he also knows they can be a bit individualized and hard to break.

She lets herself be pulled over more, leaning against Arthur even more. Her feet hurt more than they usually did at this time of night. "I can't lie, Arthur." And it's awful, awful to say it, her voice cracking with the revelation of it.

"I have to tell the truth. I can't not."

He nods, taking a deep breath as he considers this for a moment. "Anything else? Side effects, anything like that?"

"Being a security risk and not being able to work? No matter what I do I'm compelled to say it. Can't write it, anything."

"You know who cursed you?"

Nancy's about to learn something very important about Arthur: he loves puzzles. Curses often work like riddles, and the key to solving them is often stupidly obvious. Arthur doesn't even know where he's walking - he's already running through possible remedies in his head.

"If I knew that I think I wouldn't be cursed anymore!" She's a very small girl, but she's got a temper on her. Apparently, sarcasm was still allowed. "So no, I don't know!" She takes a moment, breathes in through her nose, and opens her eyes again. "I'm sorry. I'm very upset."

Arthur does his absolute best to affect an air of sympathy. "It's alright," he tells her, wheels still turning on this curse thing. When he switches back to his line of questioning, he's a little more serious about it.

"When did it start?"

"Day after Lammas. When I woke up." she shook her head. "I don't know what happened- I don't think anyone hates me enough to want to curse me!"

Lammas does nothing to help narrow it down. It's not as if the crowd there was very specific, but Arthur presses on.

"Did you talk to anyone strange there?"

"No one stranger than usual." For the most part, it had already been previous acquaintances she'd spoken with. "It could even be random. Some imp or something playing a joke."

"Could be," he says, slowing to a stop. He lifts his arm from around her shoulders as he looks up and down the road and raises his eyebrows. The city's a bit quieter on weekdays, but it still feels alive around them - still buzzing with the energy that Arthur likes so much about it.

He gives Nancy a lopsided, apologetic grin. "I've just realized, I don't know where I'm going."

She stops with him, falling easily into his step. Part of her profession was following invisible cues, picking up on hints and working with them. This was no exception.

"I do. I'll get us back to my place." If he wanted. "It's not too far."

"Lead the way," he tells her, gesturing down the street. Once she starts he goes back to thinking about her problem, slipping his hands into his pockets.

She clicks down the street with Arthur in tow, and she can't help but say, as they walk down the street, "I always love London at night best. But I guess that's how it must be for any city." She'd never left England.

He shrugs, keeping pace.

"Every big city has its own personality, especially at night. London certainly feels... a little more supernatural than most."

He'd been to other cities with large supernatural communities before, but none had felt quite as integrated as London's, and he had never seen one that felt so active - like it was on the edge of something big. Arthur felt positive that if the supernatural world was to reveal itself somehow, it would be here, despite the Night Council.

"it does. this city is filled with magic- old and new. most don't even know it, it's always astounding to me." She looked over at Arthur and, with mascara on her cheeks, smiles softly.

"it's an old city. I can only imagine what places like the Vatican feel like. but you probably know; where else have you been? Other than the U.S." your accent is a giveaway. just as hers is, a Londoner accent with lower-class inflections.

"All over Europe," he tells her. "A little less in Asia, but I did spend a month in Moscow before I came here. After a while you get used to the idea of feeling like a visitor wherever you go. I still feel like that here."

Living in London, he's developed a routine, but it still doesn't really feel like home. He feels like an intruder on the worst days and a well-educated tourist on the best. But he's not really feeling like talking about that right now, so he switches gears back to London, back to the supernatural.

"The witch I was with... he used to tell me to pay attention, that you could feel the magic in the air whenever there was a strong supernatural presence. Even regular people could feel it if they tried hard enough, but I never got it. In London there are hints everywhere, it's not hard to see it if you know what to look for, but I don't... if the tracks were covered a little better, I might never know it was here."

"That's amazing," Nancy urges, leaning a little bit more on Arthur, tilting slightly in her heels. "I've never even left England." She always dreamed about seeing the world. It wasn't possible, but she could dream. "One of my good friends lives in California." Because that was relevant, and she, despite what Stiles had told her, imagined it was some lush beach paradise.

She goes quiet, considering this. "I can sense it- magic, I mean. I just know it's there. Does that make sense? I've always seen the supernatural, so I guess... I guess I've never been in a place where I can't sense it. What gave us away?"

Arthur shrugs. "There are patterns you start to notice. Pay enough attention to the news and police reports and you start to see the evidence of vampires and werewolves, even in a well controlled community like this. And things like... tarot readers who wear amulets that are actually enchanted. The untrained eye wouldn't know the difference, but I've been in this world for years now. There are visual cues."

At that, Nancy gives him a wry look. "I see you've met Madame Czigany." A shot in the dark, it could be any tarot reader, she just happened to know Czigany personally. Given that Czigany was really a girl named Kenzi who, while Russian, was still mostly Canadian.

Arthur gives her a wry smile right back. "I don't make a habit of visiting tarot readers. I don't like people reading my fortune."

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