undergrounds | waves that swallow quick and deep

Things were strange. Extremely strange. Nancy was moving in with Kyle when he returned from his trip, she'd helped remove Norrell- and Childermass- from the board, and strangest of all? She had a boyfriend. A handsome boyfriend who spent the night (or early morning, really) regularly, kissed her when she wanted him to, and other then the time he nearly sent a client through the wall? Hadn't had any awful bouts of jealousy that she'd witnessed.

Things were, considering, pretty decent.

This afternoon, a sunny early July day, Nancy whipped together a picnic basket, a blanket, and informed Cooper in no uncertain terms that they were going on a picnic for lunch. She loved watching him in the sun, and spending time with him in public had a great ring to it. Taking his hand, she lead the way from her Enfield home to the nearest, prettiest park and laid down their blanket. Kicking her shoes off, Nancy sat on the edge of the blanket, her sundress tucked neatly around her, sunglasses obscuring her eyes.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" She asked her companion, never taking her eyes off of him, even as she pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses from the picnic basket.

Of course she brought wine- who do you think she is?

Edited 2016-07-16 14:43 (UTC)

Nancy's heels echoed on the pavement as she made her way from the Bethnal Green tube stop. She had no real destination in mind- somewhere populated enough where she was bound to find work. It was harder to work now- less to stop vampires from draining her dry. But she put her trust in them, when she gave them her veins. But business was also drier now, for that same reason. Why pay when you could eat for free?

Good thing her business wasn't only in blood.

Short skirt, hair pulled up and piled onto her head, Nancy had the idea to stop by one of the local, shady pubs. She knew the types that populated those bars, and they were just the type of people she wanted to see. Or, rather, needed to see. Then it would be home to Cooper. Cooper, who she knew hated her work.

But that was a conversation for another time.

A lone figure stood out to her, as she turned a corner. He seemed to be loitering some, and that was enough for Nancy. Wearing the same mask she always did for this sort of work, she approached him, hand on her hip. "You look like you could use some company."

They'd done it. Holy fucking shit, they had done it. Norrell and Childermass were gone, and she'd been the one to help. Without her, they'd still be here. Did she feel bad? Well... Yes. In the end, Norrell had tried to help her. But the damage he'd done to her sisters, her friends, the family she'd chosen was unrepairable, and it had to be stopped. Besides, Eames had asked for a favor.

And she owed him for everything he'd done for her. And you know what? She'd do it again.

She knew she wasn't out of the woods yet. Until the investigation was officially over, she knew there was a possibility she would be a suspect. So she'd been laying low. But that didn't mean there wasn't cause for celebration.

When Eames arrives, she's already got them each a glass of wine poured, and an eager cat waiting for hugs from one of her favorite people. "Eames!" She greets him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Hullo!" The second she's done hugging him, she hands him a glass of wine. It's cheap wine, the sort she can regularly afford.

She shuts the door behind him, giving them their privacy.

Lancelot is in a difficult situation.

Gilbert Norrell had very obvious enemies, very obvious groups that disliked him, and Lancelot doesn't want to stereotype or paint people with a broad brush of assumption but those people are the most likely suspects.

Both the Fae and Circle Midnight had every reason to dislike Gilbert Norrell and want him gone. The problem was, he'd already fallen from grace. Gilbert Norrell had been losing power.

Why still attack him?

It didn't quite add up.

The investigation is slow going and cautious. Nobody wants to point a finger of blame in the wrong direction and stir things up, especially not the Night Council. It could be a political nightmare if they stepped wrong. But the fact of the matter was, the fae at least were still suspects.

As was someone else.

Nancy isn't the easiest person to find, because Lancelot has no idea where she lives. He does, however, know what she does for a living -- and that makes narrowing it down a little easier. Not that he suspects she'll appreciate being interrupted at work, but he can't help that.

He's dressed down for the night, trying not to stand out -- all faded jeans and a short sleeved shirt in the summer heat. It's luck as much as anything that he finally tracked her down, because somehow he doesn't expect she'd agree to meet him willingly if he'd tried.

It would be suspicious. It should be.

Lancelot offers her a smile and tilts his head questioningly, hoping to silently encourage her over and that she won't bolt.

Fuck it. Fuck it. Things were going from bad to worse, and Evie had no one to turn to. Jacob wasn't somewhere she could easily get a hold of him, and she didn't really want him to gloat about what she'd always considered his greatest fault: the fact that she'd acted hastily. Usually, Evie looked at every single angle before making a move. But with Millicent, she'd been rash, and gone in with guns blazing.

Or, well, stakes flying, as it were.

She didn't strike the killing blow. That was all on Alex. But she'd helped take out a guard, given Alex valuable information and items that she couldn't have successfully completed her mission without. She was an accomplice.

That wasn't what upset her, though. She'd killed thousands of people, some worse than Millicent, others far better. She'd make the same decision, if it came down to it, because it had been the right thing to do. But now, they were sitting here with Raymond Harris.

The fear in the city, that was her fault. She was seeing the city she loved and cared for for over a hundred years tear itself apart with fangs and claws. The people she swore to protect were afraid of "gang violence". And she had no one to talk to about it.

No one, save Natasha.

Which was why, with a bottle of fine whisky in hand, she knocked on Natasha's door one evening, hoping the other woman was in. "It's Evie, may I come in?" Vampires didn't need invitations from other vampires. But it was polite. And Evie was nothing if not polite.

Early-July, Cooper

Mid-July, Faolan

Early-July, Eames

Early July

late July, for Natasha