nancy. (
stauncherhearted) wrote in
undergrounds2016-09-05 04:42 pm
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& 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
sheakespeare!]
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
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"Got a favorite place?"
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Nancy shakes her head. "Not in this neighborhood- but so long as it's got a bottle of gin in it, it'll be perfect."
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"You're a werewolf." A statement.
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"When it rains, it pours," she tells him, but doesn't give him her list of supernatural bullshit that she's dealt with. "You're okay, aren't you?"
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They make it to the bar and settle in, he orders a gin for Nancy and a beer for himself.
"Looks like they do indeed have a bottle of gin somewhere back there."
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"Good- you'd be hard pressed to find the only pub in London without a bottle of gin somewhere." It was a very popular drink for a reason. Seriously- at one point it had been cheaper than water.
"Thanks."
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Unless he meant with the alcohol. In which case she'd already taken a large swig of it.
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Nancy takes a long drink of her gin. She knows what this is, and she appreciates it, but she's not here to pretend it's anything more than two acquaintances getting a drink before she goes back to have sex with men for money, and he goes to send people who have sex for money to jail. Or something, she's not really sure what sort of lawyer he is going to school for.
Still: "Thank you," she says again.
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"You don't need to thank me, it's just a drink. Gives me something better to do than wandering around aimlessly."
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"That's far more interesting than drinking with an off-duty prostitute." Was it, though?
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"Oh thank you, I guess?" Did that mean he wanted to grill her about her work? Most people did. "I try to not be uninteresting." There were way too many double negatives there to unpack.
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"All we can ask of anyone, really."
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