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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Nancy inhales a ragged breath, looking up at him, her makeup a complete and total mess. "You would do that? Th-thank you." She offers the most watery of smiles. "There's a pub up the road." There was always a pub up the road.

She glances over to the big white fluff ball at Lance's side. She looks sweet enough, and Nancy had always adored animals, just as much as the next kid. She'd bring home strays constantly, though they never stuck around for long... She probably smelt her cat on her.

"Just not back to Five Swans- they're the bar that- that just kicked me out." She sniffled ungracefully.

"Somewhere else then. The Duke? Gastropub, I know, but that means it'll be a little less full of sports fans at the weekend -- and I know they don't mind Lily there."

He tilts his head in the direction of it, offering Nancy an encouraging smile.

"They also do a good chocolate dessert there, comes in little pieces for sharing. I've always been told chocolate makes things feel better, and so far it seems to hold true."

"I can't stand the footballers, so anything'll be good." She gives him a watery smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I can't say no to chocolate. Or a pretty dog- can I touch her, Lily?" It was nice to know that some pubs allowed for dogs in them. But she seemed well-behaved.

"Yes, of course! She's a little nervous but she won't bite. She's a rescue dog, from Battersea."

He drops to crouch beside Lily, ruffling at her thick fur and offering an encouraging smile.

"She has a good heart, people have just been cruel to her and shaken her confidence. But she's going to outshine them all, aren't you?"

Lily turns to nose at him as he fluffs up her fur, tail swishing in cautious happiness. What's going on? She isn't sure, but it seems good!

"Say hello to the nice lady," he encourages, and Lily lifts her eyes to study Nancy -- tail swishing up along her back like a flag.

"She got very lucky then, Lance, to have you pick her up. Hullo, Lily." Nancy bends at the knees slightly, leaning over to pet the dog with a bright smile on her face. "Likely or not, she smells my cat." Juliet was an affectionate cat who generally liked lounging all over things that caught fur. Normal cat stuff.

"She really is a sweetheart, aren't you, Lily?" She scatches the dog under her chin.

Lily's eyes half-close happily at the attention, paws shifting on the ground as she resists the urge to jump up. It's a strong doggy urge, because she wants to lick at her new friends but she always gets told not to. Humans are strange creatures who don't appreciate licking.

"She's very sweet," Lancelot "and probably very curious about your cat too -- although they never seem to like her half as much as she likes them."

Cats are also strange creatures who don't like licking and playing. Lancelot gives Lily a last ruffle before pressing a kiss to her nose and shifting his grip on her leash. She perks up curiously at the motion, looking up at Lancelot questioningly. Are they going someone?

"Come on," he murmurs to Nancy. "Let's find you a drink then, before Lily coats you in white fur."

"I'll say. Well, Juliet's pretty fearless. She was with me when I had a vampire stay in the flat for a while." Nancy's smile quickly faded and her eyes grew wide. "I mean- It's a-It's a long story." That, at least, was not a lie. Hopefully it sounded like it was covering up for some strange inside joke. As far as she knew, Lance was human.

Or maybe he thought it was a weird sex thing. You never knew with todays kids, right? That Twilight book? Yeah.

"Alright," she agreed, standing up. "To the gastropub, then."

A vampire? Lancelot blinks a little at that, and he can't really decide if Nancy is humorously exaggerating or if... well, if she's a little like him. Wrapped up in all these things that seem like they should be real but are. He gently tugs the leash a little to get Lily walking with him, falls into step with Nancy as he heads toward the pub.

"Do I get to find out your name this time?" he prompts, "or at least something to call you. I don't mind which."

Nancy braces herself for the words before they even come out. "Nancy Fagin," she says simply. Her real name. Usually, for people like the police, or those in positions of more power than her, she used a fake name, most recently Emma for both Redbright herself and Mab. At least he isn't about to question the vampire thing.

Phew, thank god.

Nancy Fagin. In truth, Lancelot'd hadn't been expecting a full name -- a nickname, mostly likely, or simply a full name at best. Yet Nancy Fagin is what he gets, and he files it away in his memory as they walk. It could easily not be a real name, he supposes, or the name of a friend. Does it matter? He isn't entirely sure.

"Nancy," he echoes. "Well, despite the circumstances -- it's nice to meet you again. Here we go --"

He shifts the leash to his other hand as he turns to push his way into the The Duke. It's a typical gastropub, low music playing and clean wooden interior -- the air of the kind of place where everything was considerably more expensive than it should be. The man behind the bar looks up as Lancelot walks in, flashes him a smile which grows a little curious as he spots Nancy behind him.

"Got two ladies with you tonight, Lance?"

"Don't you dare add that to any file on me that you've got at your station," she said, a little bite returning to her words as they took off for the gastropub. If he did, she'd find out. Somehow or someway, she'd know.

Nancy followed Lance dutifully, taking the few minutes to try to breath, dry her tears. Lily, truthfully, helped, as Nancy kept a had brushing her fur as they walked. Animals were outstanding, and she'd always loved them. The way they just knew things. She knew in the instant she got home tonight, Juliet would bound over and try to make sure she was okay, in the way that cats do.

Mostly she'd show her her butt and meow at her.

At the bartender's words, Nancy looks down, blushing. Her makeup's mostly gone, and she likely looks her own eighteen years old for once. "He's just buying me a drink," Nancy muttered, "I try not to associate with the police, otherwise."

He's about to point out he has no idea if she even has a file, but... he lets it drop. It doesn't matter. She can think what she likes, but Lancelot is off duty and has no intention of making anyone's life more difficult than need be.

Lily surges towards the barkeeper as he opens his flap and steps out, ruffling her ears as she bounces on the spot. I try not to associate with police, Nancy says, and they share an eyebrow raise.

"Good to know," Lancelot says lightly, "I'll be sure to buy you no more drinks in the future. What would you like?"

"Or to buy me more," she added. "I make an exception if someone's buying me a drink." She needs to get her old spunky self back. Truthfully, the walk and company was helping, and especially Lily. Maybe she should invest in a dog, along with Juliet. Though, truthfully, she wasn't home enough to give any dog the affection they deserved.

So she'd stick with cats.

"Whiskey ginger, if you don't mind," she said, looking at the bartender rather than Lance. She needed something far stronger than beer tonight.

Honestly, she did every night.

Lancelot nods agreement to the bartender, gently retrieves Lily and asks for a ginger beer for himself.

He'd really rather not get drunk, after all, and he's not a huge drinker to begin with. Leaning forward he adds something else quietly, gestures to a corner table before smiling as the bartender rolls his eyes and encouraging Lily away towards it.

"Come on," he says, half to Nancy and half to Lily, and slides into a seat -- Lily pacing beside the table curiously a moment before sitting down herself. This is exciting! If Nancy sits down she will be the perfect height for her to stick her face in her lap! Very good!

"Feeling better?" he prompts gently, and there's something a little curious in his expression that says he wants to ask what happened. It feels intrusive, he suspects she'd rather not talk about it, but he can't help but be curious.

Well, lucky for Lance, Nancy can drink for both of them without breaking a sweat. She'll refrain, however. No need to wear out her welcome.

The interaction between the bartender and Lance was not overlooked by Nancy, who regarded them with a wary eyebrow. But she doesn't say anything, as she walks to the table and slides into a seat. The second Nancy's sitting, Lily's already demanding attention. With a small laugh, she leans over and gives the dog a good rub on the top of her head. "A little. Giving me something else to think about helps." Well, she hadn't known that herself, actually. So that was new.

"I think that is true of most people, to be honest. We have no desire to dwell on our problems, so anything else is welcome. Dogs, in fact, are sometimes used as therapy animals. Their happiness and enthusiasm is contagious, and dogs... don't judge you. They have no interest in race, religion, fashion, money -- they only know that you are there and want your attention and time and food. Lily especially wants your food. Ah -- here you are."

The waitress slides Nancy's drink in front of her, and a bottle of ginger beer and glass for Lancelot. Then she sets down a narrow plate between them, which... mostly seems to contain chocolate. Small portions of chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, chocolate ice cream, chocolate biscuit and what looks like it might be a truffle of some sort. Lancelot shrugs, lofts Nancy a smile and pushes the plate slightly closer to her.

"If that doesn't help I'm not sure what will, in truth."

"Oh is that all I'm good for?" Nancy asked, challenging the dog. The dog could not talk. Still, to assuage whatever fears Lily may have had, she continued to pet her. "I'm kidding, Lily. Don't you worry- oh!"

She caught sight of the chocolate extravaganza. "Lance! You shouldn't have- you're bloody ridiculous." She gave him a half-hearted pout. "Thank you. Honestly. thank you." This was so much better than not getting verbal citations.

"You realise this is normally meant for sharing," he points out, eyes widening in mock surprise before his expression melts into a lightly amused smirk. He opens his bottle of ginger beer, pouts himself out some and shakes his head a little.

"Have as much as you want. A friend once told me they think chocolate has a little bit of magic to it, that's why it has the power to cure most bad moods. That and... perhaps the amount of sugar in it."

He sets down the bottle, picks up the glass and leans back to take a sip. Lily sits back to watch, ears pricked forward and eyes on the plates and glasses. What is this! Is there food now? Is some for her?

"I have every intention of sharing!" She gasped with just as much mock surprise.

"No, there's no magic in chocolate." She knew this for a fact. "It's that it releases the same chemicals as falling in love. Cheers you up, endorphins, all that. But don't take my word for it, I've never been to school a day in my life." Helped, when, as far as the British government was concerned, she didn't exist.

She scratches Lily's chin. "No, sweetheart. This isn't for dogs. It'll make you sick. Maybe I'll bring you some treats, drop 'em off the station. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

She would like that, yes! Lily leans into the attention, tail swishing happily even if she isn't getting food yet. Maybe she will get some if she waits long enough? Maybe if she's good? She can be very good! It does not matter if it isn't for dogs, if it will make her sick, she'd eat it anyway!

(Then regret it).

"Chemicals are far less romantic than the idea of magic," Lancelot offers, watching Lily try to charm Nancy into giving up some food. "A little magic makes life far more interesting, I think."

Nancy grinned at the dog, content to keep petting her and scratching her as the conversation with Lance continued.

Continued in a way that she was. 100% not happy about. Because the next thing that came out of her mouth was this: "Interesting, not necessarily good." Hoping to shut herself up, Nancy dove into a bite of chocolate cake, but even that could not contain the curse. "I know; I'm a witch."

Someone kill her now.

Admittedly not a confession he had expected while sipping ginger beer in a gastropub.

Is confession the right word? It is not a crime, after all. Lancelot frowns as the thought crosses his mind, distracted, before taking another hesitant sip of his drink and setting it down.

"Well, that would make you more of an expert than I am. I admit, I have never cast a spell in my life -- although I have known some who can. Perhaps I am destined to play the part of food provider to people more skilled than myself."

There, a neutral sort of answer, right? It does not lean toward describing what sort of spells he knows people can ask, but gives her the option to go on without him... outing himself? Would that be the right term?

Good lord, he needs some sort of guide on politically correct supernatural terminology.

"Oh, I do that too," she said as casual as you please, taking a sip of her drink. "Twenty pounds a pint t'start." She was going to choke on her cake, the second she realized what she said and flushed a deep, deep red.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck! I'm sorry, Lance, but since I have no bloody filter tonight, I'm going to tell you that not only am I sober, but I'm cursed to tell the truth for gods know how long, and it's the worst damned thing to have happened to me in recent history!" She sounded so defeated as she explained it all, finishing with her drink. All of it.

Gods, she needed that.

Hopefully he'd just think she was insane, like Eames had suggested.

Lancelot blinks at her slowly as she begins to talk, choke, flush, ramble more and down her drink and --

and, honestly? He can't quite be sure what to make of it. Twenty pounds a... pint? Even if he knows about vampires, Lancelot certainly hasn't considered people might do what she does. He supposes she must... work at a bar? A very... expensive bar? Good lord. His eyebrows loft slowly and he tilts his head, trying to decide how to respond. If he should go with it, on the assumption she's telling the truth, decide she's already drunk or drugged or mad -- yet no, her pupils weren't blown enough for that. Lancelot knows drunk and high when he sees them, he has rather a lot of experience with that. She could be out of her mind, but...

"Have you tried to break it?" he begins cautiously, rubbing his thumb against the side of his glass as he thinks. "I suppose you must have tried, so I really I'm asking how asking how much. Forgive me, I don't know too many people good at this sort of thing or I might be able to recommend something. Redbright might have something useful in its libraries...?"

Oh and look at that, he thinks she's absolutely insane. Nancy grimaces and shrinks back in her seat. Her face is flushed below her freckles, and she can't stop cringing. And almost-

"Are you making fun of me?" She asked- no, demanded. "Because if you are, I don't think I'll ever be making those safety lectures, then." But he mentioned Redbright.

She sighed. "I'm sorry- I'm on edge tonight and you don't deserve it. You're trying to help and I'm going off like a complete loon. Yes, I've tried, but I don't have anything to go off of. And Redbright- Redbright is completely off the table." Not when she was a member of Circle Midnight. More specifically, Shadow Coven.

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