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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

He lifts his hands defensively as she starts to lay into him, lowers them as she finally sighs and offers a wince of sympathy -- pushes the plate of dessert an inch closer to her in the hope it will soothe her.

"I've had worse on a Friday night," he assures her, and shrugs minutely. Redbright is off the table, she says, and that could mean... any number of things, really, from having people she doesn't like there to being kicked out or banned to... well, not being in a friendly faction. He opts to not ask (always easier that way) and instead takes a sip of his drink thoughtfully.

"You could ask someone else to go check its libraries for you," he suggests, "or... well, I suppose other than that it's trying google or going door to door with people you know."

And Lancelot suspects at least 80% of what google turned up would be useless, too. Just a hunch.

"And google is useless. I've already tried." Look at her, she's such a modern young-adult. She sighs, and attacks a piece of chocolate cake, but doesn't move to eat any.

"I'm sorry. You really shouldn't have had the misfortune of finding me like this. as kind as you and Lily are." Yes, she's already petting Lily at the mention of her name, so you're perfectly safe there, pretty puppy.

"I have some fae friends- they've done what they can, but there's nothing they can solve. I can't go to Fagin, either, because he'll kill me." Though he would have some sort of antidote, of all the people she knew. But she couldn't put herself in that position.

Lancelot opens his mouth, closes it again and lets his expression screw up into something uncertain. His opinion of the fae isn't exactly entirely positive, but he knows well enough that... well, some might not be so bad. It's best not to judge all fae on his own experiences, and that aside... someone apparently who would kill her sounds worse.

"For what it's worth," he begins faux-lightly, "murder is still illegal -- so..."

He spreads his hands expansively, offers her a wincing smile.

"If you think you're in danger, there are people who can help."

"Is it still illegal if the two people involved in this hypothetical murder don't legally exist anywhere?" It was a very good question, wrapped in Nancy's own truth. She'd been taken by Fagin when she was a baby, the other side of the promise of a first-born child.

"I'm a Midnight hooker who lets vampires drink her blood for cash. I'm only in danger." And she was going to cry.

He opens his mouth again, pauses and winces a little helplessly. This is getting... difficult to manoeuvre.

"Murder is always illegal," he says finally, "no matter the social standing or... career choices, or... alliances of those involved."

His fingers flex thoughtfully, and his eyes dart around the gastropub. It's quiet, but it's not entirely empty. He takes a sip of his drink, giving himself time to think. He would guess that the only reason she's saying all this is her curse, to tell the truth -- or, more accurately, blurt it. It sits awkwardly with him, that she is compelled to do so and he can't really do anything to either alleviate it or make the situation more comfortable for her.

"Perhaps it's better," he begins cautiously, "that keep yourself a while, lest you... well, out yourself to the wrong person."

Looking across the table at Lance, she wanted to know what the hell he must have been on, to sit across from her and look so... so almost casual about it. Awkward, yes. Very awkward, and she wanted to shrink into her seat and cry and disappear into thin air (why hadn't she learned that spell yet, hmm?).

She settles for running her hands over her face, trying to get rid of the sharp feeling at the tip of her nose. The tip of her nose that was slowly turning red. "I'm sorry- I'm so bloody sorry- I can't tell you that I can't have this conversation because we are having it, but I don't want to have it. Any of this. I'm just-" she sits back in the seat, burying her head in her hands.

"I'm just over this bloody curse!"

He takes a slow breath as she starts to turn red, as he senses her misery start to set in, and Lancelot hesitates before getting out of his chair -- stepping around to where Nancy is sat and crouching down beside her. Lily immediately crowds him and he settles one hand on her, reaches out another to touch at Nancy's arm.

"Listen to me," he says softly, "you will be fine. How about I -- talk about something else, mmm? We can talk about Lily, or -- chocolate, or what type of drinks you like other than this one. Music? Please -- look at me, please. I promise you this will be fine. Nobody will hear of this from me."

She doesn't want to, but she looks at him, listens at him, tears once more filling her bright green eyes. She nods, trying to focus on the words. On the idea of Lily or chocolate or drinks.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she tells him with a sniff. He's a cop. And she doesn't trust anyone. She threads her fingers through Lily's long coat. "I'm sorry- I'm not usually like this ever." Except for now. "I like- anything. Anything to drink as long as it gets me drunk, stronger the better." Desperately, even as the words come out, "I've got a drinking problem."

It doesn't count as the first step if it's forced out of you.

Ah. Well. It seems like even topics he thought were safe... aren't. He strokes at Lily's flanks as she looks between them in concern, unsure what to do. She should lick her? Would that help? She isn't sure! She sits again and one paw lifts to rest against Nancy's leg questioningly, ears twitching as she sniffs.

"That's all right," Lancelot says, forcibly trying to keep his voice even and calm. "Lily here has a chewing problem. She likes to chew near enough anything left at ground level. There have been several victims already, including one pair of trainers, a bag, two dog beds, a pair of jeans..."

Lily continues to wag her tail, oblivious to the slander being thrown. Even if she understood, she wouldn't show remorse. She is not sorry. These things tasted good.

cross your heart && hope to die

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