stauncherhearted: narcissa (scared)
nancy. ([personal profile] stauncherhearted) wrote in [community profile] undergrounds2016-09-05 04:42 pm

& 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.


[ooc: toss a post in if you'd like, or grab me at [plurk.com profile] sheakespeare!]
falsify: (002)

[personal profile] falsify 2016-09-05 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
The kennel was great for rehabilitation, but since being out in a new home in a new area, the dog seems to be getting braver by day. Where just a fortnight ago he would've spent the whole time Nancy was here at Eames' feet, watching her with uncertainty, he's now happily soaking up the attention. Even going so far as to bring her a toy when she arrived as his own brand of friendship-- Something Eames taught him, to make new people in the house a little less scary.

(Happy is a very strong word for how Eames feels, but he hides it a lot better than some.)

"He's lovely," Eames says absently, watching Nancy as she pets the dog. One doesn't have to be a keen reader of body language to see she's not okay, nor is it a hard guess as to why. Eames has never liked Abigail, but he knows how close and dear she was to Nancy. He's not exactly one for feelings, but Eames at least knows one thing that helps. "I'll make you some tea."

With a liberal helping of whiskey, of course. He knows his girl.
falsify: (002)

[personal profile] falsify 2016-09-06 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Few weeks," Eames answers absently before he vanishes into the kitchen. Plus some months visiting the kennel while Boxer was in Dog Therapy. He won't be able to hear her while he's in there, but that's fine because Boxer is here to soak up all her attention. Wagging his tail eagerly while he tugs on the toy-- not hard enough to wrench it out of her grip, but it's clear he wants to play.
falsify: (Default)

[personal profile] falsify 2016-09-06 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
Boxer dutifully runs to get the toy and bring it back a few times, but he can tell she's not really feeling it. He drops the toy in front of her and tilts his head, tail wagging low and curious for a moment or two before he comes right up to her and presses his forehead against her shoulder. She's not at face-licking levels of friendship yet, only Eames gets that, but general doggy hugs are good.

Eames also comes back in with two mugs of tea — his un-whiskeyed and hers liberally so — and sets them both down on the coffee table, before electing to join her on the floor with the dog. It's not like this is new anyway, but nobody is allowed to know about floor cuddles with Boxer.

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longterm: (6 copy)

Mid September

[personal profile] longterm 2016-09-06 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
Cesare hasn't spoken to Nancy since their talk in his office. He hasn't requested her services, nor reached out in anyway. He's allowed her to wander about the hotel as she pleases but otherwise, to be honest, he's been ghosting on her. He still hasn't quite forgiven her for her and her boyfriend's actions.

So he isn't exactly planning on seeing her tonight. In fact, he hadn't really been planning on seeing anyone drinkable who he'd let live. With Raymond Harris in charge and his rules, or rather lack of them, in effect, Cesare and his pals have been using the opportunity for a drinking spree. They're a rowdy bunch, drunk on blood and booze, all expensively dressed and swaggering. They're the type of group you avoid at night if you have any sense.

Cesare himself doesn't look quite as much of a mess as the others, the large bloodstains hidden by the darkness of his shirt and only a splash of red visible on the skin of his neck. But being the best of a bad bunch does not exactly make you good.

He spots Nancy in the shadows and makes his way up to her, telling the others to stay back for now. (Not her, everyone. Calm down. Not yet. Take a cold shower, Victor.) He looks her up and down and smiles.

"I didn't buy you that."
longterm: (6 copy)

[personal profile] longterm 2016-09-06 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
Nancy looks different. Really different. Cesare tries to remember what she looked like when he first met her, whether she was dressed more appropriately or he morphed her into that later. But his memory is hazy. He's drunker than he would like to be. Far drunker than he likes to be when he's with her. He likes to retain his control and he knows that when he's in this state he starts to lose it. But that is a thought that you have before you drink too much, not after, and Cesare's brain is too addled for him to take a step back and leave Nancy alone. Instead he takes a step forward, leaning against the brick wall beside him.

"Turn around, would you?" He wants to see her properly, and so he simply asks her to show him, not paying her but acting like he is.
longterm: (8 copy)

[personal profile] longterm 2016-09-06 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
Cesare doesn't even think about what it means for Nancy, that perhaps it might seem inappropriate. Instead he just watches, looking her over her and her attire before smiling and shrugging.

"I confess: I'm no fashion expert. Is this a new thing?" He wants to know if this is what happens when you don't have one of your main clients for a month or if this is simply her off-duty (or is it more on-duty?) look.

"You look cold."

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emotioneater: (Dauda-dagr)

[personal profile] emotioneater 2016-09-06 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
Cooper had gone to bed only a couple of hours before and he awoke slowly to the sound of someone knocking over and over again on his door. He put a pillow over his head, but whoever was out there wasn't going away. Sighing, he got up, grumbling to himself in Gaelic all the while. He padded to the door in a pair of sweatpants, barefoot and without even bothering to put on a shirt over his skinny teenage body.

Nancy was standing there with her cat wrapping around her ankles. She looked scared and young, so terribly young to Cooper's old eyes. Something had gone wrong. He would have thought it work-related, but she was dressed all wrong to have been out soliciting clients. He immediately opened up his door wide and ushered her in. "Sweet-pea! Jesus, what happened?"
emotioneater: (Sadness)

[personal profile] emotioneater 2016-09-07 08:26 am (UTC)(link)
Cooper pets her hair slowly, trying to make sense of what her fractured words mean. He's always known there was a threat to Midnight from the other witches, ever since Abby, Kenzi, and Nancy had formed their coven together. It was one of the things that had drawn him to their cause, the element of danger that was ever present. But he never thought it would come to something like this. If Nancy was here, that can mean only one thing: Midnight has fallen.

"Abby? Is she dead?" He's been friends with the young witch nearly as long as he had with Nancy and he can feel a cold pit of anxious worry settling into his stomach. He doesn't want to push Nancy, but he has to know how bad things have gotten. He'll be getting no more sleep tonight.
emotioneater: (Immortal)

[personal profile] emotioneater 2016-09-09 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Sit down. Give yourself a minute to breathe." He leads her to the comfortable leather couch in the middle of the room. They've had sex on it more than once, which is a thought he immediately pushes away. Not the time for it, Cooper. She needs him right now. He's already snapping into the role of doing what a high-placed member of the nest should do. The first thing is to make sure she wasn't followed here.

"Gimme a minute here." He pulls out his cell phone and is already dialing the number of another vampire in the nest. "Thom? It's Cooper. I need you t'check around my flat. Make sure there's no one hanging about, particularly witches. You find anyone, deal with 'em straightaway. What? No, nothin' t'report right now. There may be trouble later."

Second thing is to try and calm her down. "Was it just Abby that was arrested? Or was most of the coven?"

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iustitiae: (93)

mid-september

[personal profile] iustitiae 2016-09-14 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)
"Nancy?" he doesn't know her very well. Now, as he keeps his voice down and walks up to her, he kind of wishes he did. They'd met before, sure, had floated in the same circles. Maybe he shouldn've checked up on her after Enfield. Maybe he shouldn't made sure she was alive. But that would've taken a more thoughtful and honestly better person. Instead he just feels bad.

Well, and he feels a little relief that she's still alive. She looks shaken. How could she not be? She didn't have the benefit of being turned into a werewolf with extremely coincidental timing to give her a safehaven.

"You're -- are you doing alright?"
iustitiae: (187)

[personal profile] iustitiae 2016-09-15 05:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Connor raises his hands up in a surrender gesture, taking a step backwards. Like he doesn't mean harm, like he's trying not to be intimidating. She's right, he wasn't a werewolf before. He was just a normal human hanging around Midnight with nothing better to do. A lot had changed for both of them since they'd met at the bar that night.

"Connor," he offers, helpfully, "it's, uh, I was in Midnight?" It's a question because it always felt like a question, because it never felt like he'd ever really fit in. He didn't understand their struggles, didn't understand what it was like to be able to do magic no one wanted you to. He'd only known through Soeki.
iustitiae: (57)

[personal profile] iustitiae 2016-09-16 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
He's pretty sure no one is listening, at least. His senses are better than they used to be and he couldn't smell anyone else but she's not wrong to be cautious either. This was a problem his stupid study group was always having, too.

"Yeah, I'm pretty aware of the circumstances," Connor's quieter. For her sake. "That's why I asked if you were alright."

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knightscode: Puppyeyes (♠38)

LATE SEPTEMBER; AFTER MABON

[personal profile] knightscode 2016-09-28 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)
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.
knightscode: Kicked puppyeyes (♠39)

[personal profile] knightscode 2016-09-28 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"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.
knightscode: Puppyeyes (♠38)

[personal profile] knightscode 2016-09-28 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"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?

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