undergrounds | & you could run so fast & fade away- sept. open post

September 6, late night: open

It was a text that had done it in the end. A text from one of the other Shadow girls to all of them- Abigail had been arrested by the Guardians. Geap Manor was in flames. and they were coming for the rest of them.

Nancy didn't waste time. She tossed whatever she could into an enchanted bag- unsure if she'd ever be able to return to her apartment. Anything of value, be it sentimental or monetary was grabbed, but she knew her time was limited. While her flat was in Colin Coward's name, rather than her own, she knew they'd be on to her.

With Juliet at her side, she snuck down her fire escape, a spell muffling her footsteps. She dressed as unassumingly as she could- jeans, a hoodie and trainers. Without makeup on she could have been anyone. Hood up, she crept through the side streets. She had to get out of Enfield as soon as she could, had to find some place to hide. And she knew exactly where that was. The trick was getting there.

September 7, early morning: closed to Cooper

It was nearly morning, by the time Nancy found herself at her destination, right outside Cooper's door. She knocks, rather than barges in, rapping her fist three times against the door as quick as she can. A moment later and she's looking over her shoulder, wondering if perhaps she'd been followed.

No, she couldn't have been. She'd gone the long way, taking unnecessary detours, getting on and off of the tube at the same station. She'd kept her face covered, away from the CCTVs as best she could, staying in the dark. Nancy couldn't have been followed.

Juliet paced back and fourth behind her, having followed her the whole way. Standing in front of Cooper's door, Nancy knows she's nearly safe, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins won't let her stop, won't let her think about anything other than getting safe. What's just happened hasn't sunk in yet. But given time, it will.

September. 12, afternoon: Closed to Eames

Nancy keeps looking at the door of Eames' new flat, her back straight. There's a puppy in front of her, and she's eagerly petting him, but her heart isn't quite in it. "I can't believe you got a dog," she tells Eames, looking away from the door for a moment. "What a sweetheart, aren't you, Boxer?"

A dog, a new house, a new title. It was funny, in a way: as Nancy's world crashed down around her, Eames' star seemed to be rising in his court. Good- she liked seeing him happy.

Mid September: open

For the rest of the month, Nancy is keeping to the shadows. She's cautious, hardly daring to go out at night, even though she knows now, in Islington territory, she's safe. Redbright won't be able to find her, or if she does, she can't do anything about it. So she hopes, though it's been made clear that traditional rules are quickly being thrown out the window.

When she does go out, it's to work, and even that's taken a turn for the worse. Since Harris had ascended to power, work had been drying up, and what had happened at Harris' party had certainly sent a message, as Cesare had said. Worse, still was her apartment in Enfield was a place she couldn't yet return to- a place to work. As such, most nights she's in bars and back alleys, if she didn't have appointments set.

She keeps to herself, though, eyes carefully glued to the door of any building she's in, quick to glance over her shoulder.

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Lancelot said he'd do something, and he's as good as his word.

He's thought of something he can do, if only he can sell it to Nancy. Selling it will be the hard part. He doesn't doubt he can do it -- he is confident in his own ability to persuade the Night Council. In Nancy's ability to play at contrite and sad. Getting past her fear will be the trick of it.

So he goes looking for her. Nancy, he knows, should be staying out of West London. Which leaves Eat London, and his best bet he thinks is fae territory. It's a considerable area, but casually asking around gets him somewhere. He may be sweet faced and wide eyed but Lancelot knows what he's looking for. He's looking for somewhere a girls hanging up trying to pick up business, and that eventually leads him to The Three Cripples. Nancy won't, exactly, benefit from the attention of either police or the Night Council so Lancelot comes dressed as inconspicuously as he can. Rough, old clothes -- faded jeans and a leather jacket over a dark v-neck. He doesn't take long to spot her, waits until she's alone before approaching her.

"Hey," he begins softly, and digs a hand out of his pocket to offer to her. "Got a minute?"

He jerks an eyebrow meaningfully, trying to look like he's leading her away casually while projecting please at the same time.

Nancy stills herself, though her initial reaction is still to run. Lance won't hurt her, she reminds himself. He's trying to help her. And, from the look of it, he's off duty. She watches him carefully, even though his hand is empty.

He wants her to trust him. She wants to trust him. But she doesn't trust much of anyone, anymore.

"Sure-" she says after a moment, looking around the old pub. She can play it off like he's hiring her, taking his hand in hers. Her hand is small and soft, nails painted a dark wine color. She follows him, and waits until they're a safe distance away from people before she speaks again: "What's wrong? am I in trouble?"

"No," he assures her softly, and stops around the corner of the building -- lets go of her hand and shoves his own back into the pocket of his jacket. "I'm hoping I can get you out of trouble, actually."

If she'll let him. If she'll trust him.

"The Night Council offer pardons this month. It would wipe the slate clean of any crime they've ever accused you of, no matter how serious. Nobody can overturn it. All you need is someone to plead your case."

Which, as he assumes she can guess, he would offer to do.

"Oh." So he wanted to get her out of trouble. This was... new. Most men that spoke to her at this time of night only wanted to get into trouble in the first place.

But he speaks about the Night Council and she shakes her head. The risk is too great- if she isn't pardoned then she's right there and they'll exile her. Kill her, even, she doesn't doubt. Sylvia wasn't exactly her biggest fan, and she hadn't been the kindest to her ever, either. They'd been at odds over Abby. And now...

"I can't- they'll exile me in an instant, you know it."

"I can. Let me be your sponsor. As far as Sylvia's concerned she's already won. A show of mercy will probably look good for her. You're young, you can blame it on that, and I know you don't want to but right now may be your best chance. You'll be able to stop hiding, Nancy. Think about that."

Surely that is worth something? Even the idea that she could walk in London with her head held high, without fear of arrest?

Nancy shakes her head. "She probably knows what I am." The scars on her neck are pretty visible when she doesn't cover them with magic and makeup. She is actually very sure that Sylvia knows what she does, given the information she shared with both Lance and Faolan. "Whores aren't exactly sympathetic."

And furthermore... "If I don't get pardoned, Lance, then I'm already there. Then there's absolutely nothing I can do. I'll be exiled."

"Maybe not, but young people are. There's a legal precedent already for people to have their records wiped at a certain age. You may be a year over that, but if you look contrite and claim you've learnt from your mistakes it looks worse for Sylvia to punish you regardless. She'd be publicly punishing a young girl who had pleaded with her. That, and it isn't just Sylvia you're pleading with. It's the entire Night Council. Not all of them agree with her. Not all of them even like her."

Which, perhaps, is something Lancelot shouldn't really be saying -- but it's out there now. He's said it.

The worst things she'd done had been after she turned eighteen. But he had a good point- she'd played that card before, and she knew she would play it again- why not now?

Lance presented a good argument, but the idea of the loss weighed heavily in her mind. Still, to have her record wiped clean of all crimes- that was asking for as close to a fresh start as she would ever likely be given.

"If we lose," she started, reaching for his hand again. She looked at him, her eyes hard and bright all at the same time, "you have to promise me you'll help me find a way back."

"Of course. I promise. I won't let them hurt you, Nancy. I swear it."

It's worth the risk, to him. Besides which, in truth it's dangerous for Lancelot too -- especially if she's caught again afterwards. He isn't about to tell her that, though. It might put her off the idea, and he doesn't want her worrying about that.

Nancy takes a deep, wavering breath. If he means it- then it's worth the risk, isn't it? If she gets exiled after this, he'll help her. She has other contacts in the city, more powerful ones as well that could perhaps break the charm. If Eames was able to get rid of Norrell, he'd be able to get her back into the city.

"Okay." She swallows thickly, trying to keep the shaking out of her voice. "I'll do it."

& you could run so fast & fade away- sept. open post

LATE SEPTEMBER; AFTER MABON

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