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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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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.

She can't help it: Nancy laughs a little, a smile appearing despite her tears. She places her hand on top of Lily's paw and pets her affectionately.

"That's how you do it, compare a girl to a dog," but she's wry and not insulted. It's what she needed, really.

"I'm really, really sorry."

He flicks a warm smile that says no, he didn't mean it that way really but yes, he is glad she understood that and laughed.

"You have nothing to apologise for," he assures her, and reaches out to lay a hand on top of the one on Lily's paw. "You are not to blame for bad things that have been done to you, never think that."

She met his eyes.

"You're the first person to tell me that."

Everything in her life, she'd learned, was her own damn fault.

His smile drops at that, and Lancelot blinks at Nancy. The first person to tell her that? That -- well, it isn't so hard to believe but it... isn't a happy thought. He closes his hand around hers and grips it.

"Then I will do my best to be the first to make you believe it too," he says, and though his voice is still soft there's a fierceness to the statement. No person should believe believe suffering inflicted on them is their fault. Lancelot will have none of it.

"You won't be able to," she admits. "I've had eighteen years to learn otherwise." And for every good thing he said, there would be others saying the reverse. "You don't need to do any of this for me."

She wipes at her eyes with a napkin, and reaches for her drink to finish it off.

"Thank you."

"Any time," he assures her gently, and gives her arm a last gentle squeeze before pushing to his feet again -- pacing back around to slide onto his chair and sip at the rest of his own drink. "Take your time to cool off," he encourages. "You're not putting me out."

He pauses a moment, then after a second of thought begins to dig absently in his pockets -- shuffles for his wallet and tugs out a receipt (from Richmond Pets Company, if she reads the other side) and begins to scribble something on the back of it.

"Here," he says after a moment, and pushes it across the table. "This is my mobile number. If you find yourself stuck, let me know. Or if you just need another drink. Dog optional."

"There's no way Lily is optional," she says as she takes the number and studies it, before sliding it into her purse. Reaching down, she pats at Lily's head again, roughing up her soft white fur. "If you do need anyone to watch her at any point, I'd be happy to volunteer. I usually go running, too, if you want someone to take her out."

It was always more fun to run with a large fluffy beast. She assumed, at least.

With one hand, she sets her empty glass down and starts pathetically at the chocolate again.

"I appreciate this, Lance. I really, really do. You're a good man, even if you are a cop."

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