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    The East

    The east side of the city is often considered the heart of Sacrosanct. It's here were the majority of the shopping district can be found, deep in the heart of downtown. It's here that magic thrives, it hums in every stone and can be felt in every breath. Often times, new comers to the city may be come overwhelmed by such sensations but, eventually, it becomes an ever present feeling that's hardly noticed. The streets of the east side are frequented by all species as many companies are housed in the sky scrapers and hole in the wall establishments that line the streets.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Downtown

    Downtown

    The city has a unique skyline, clashing between modern sky rises and small victorian storefronts. In the heart of downtown, the sleek colored glass buildings reign supreme though their old-world roots can be seen in the most peculiar places from the lamp post styled electric street light to the stone sidewalks. The old world architecture slowly returns the further from downtown you travel, however.

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    Inner Sanctum

    owned by Alexander Macedonia
    3 employees

    Inner Sanctum

    This hidden little cafe is loaded with essentricities and antiques that fill every corner of this remarkable place. The walls are lined with oddities from every corner of the world. Beyond the intriging decor, this place is known for it's delectable coffees and it's exquisite latte art.

    Owner Alexander Macedonia

    Barista Alexis Wilde
    Assistant Manager Calliel Alosi
    Barista Beylani Rose

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    Red on the Water

    owned by Isolt Griffin
    2 employees

    Red on the Water

    Nestled in a pleasant alcove that is but a stone?s throw away from the dazzling labyrinth of downtown, Red on the Water is a spectacle in its own right. Renovated in the style of a classic Irish pub with a dash of modern flare befitting the city that boasts it, this up-and-coming venue is the perfect place to snag an impeccably prepared home-cooked meal and enjoy the city?s most impressive collection of brews from Ireland and beyond. You and your guests are sure to be mesmerized and invigorated by the energetic offerings of the live Celtic band to be found here every weekend.

    Owner Isolt Griffin

    Co-Owner Damon Marcello
    Waitress Yumi Chizue

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    The Bakery

    owned by Taliah Vieira
    2 employees

    The Bakery

    The Bakery is a small bakery that serves anything that your heart desires, from sweet to savory this little place has it all. The area overall is small and cozy, a seating area that lines the windows and several bakery cases that provide freshly baked goods every day. The Bakery also takes special orders and delivers to local cafes.

    Owner Taliah Vieira

    Baker Sterling Tenembrage
    Baker Ludovino Donati

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream (Elain)71.10.198.131Posted On February 10, 2018 at 9:40 PM by Hazel



Bridget Satteree

Coffee is cherished within the girl’s grasp, the heat melting onto her slender fingers and the scent almost makes her heart flutter. As a chronic insomniac, coffee is what makes Hazel feel alive. No cream, no sugar, just liquid gold. Although, after how much the cafe charged her for the small paper cup, the contents had better be genuine gold. Hazel praises any higher power that her dear uncle left her with a large inheritance, one that she has yet to touch and has only grown over the decades, or she would be living off less than crumbs. Being a King’s favorite certainly has its advantages.


The inheritance has already been put to good use. The fae had been treated as a princess as a child, then lived as the opposite when she grew older. She could easily live as a commoner once more, but she does not wish to. Hazel quite likes living in a bit of luxury. The house is completely paid for, trendy furniture fills the rooms, and a new wardrobe has her closet satisfied. The retail workers aided Hazel in finding her modern sense of style. Before, she never had the chance to develop her own fashion sense, as they call it. She never had a space of her own to decorate, even her own body. From the castle, she donned various dresses picked by others, then from the field she wore a plain uniform. All, however, were dresses. Now she strides down a busy sidewalk in skintight jeans, a large powder pink sweater allowing for modesty above her mid thigh, and hair pulled neatly into a high ponytail save a few strands to frame her face. Her feet are a tad clumsy in ‘timbs’, as the saleswoman called them, but the blessing of appearing modern while being cursed to not particularly feel so is quite contenting. If she walked these same streets in a dirndl, she’d be a spectacle.


And yet she holds her head high. These strangers do not need to know about her crippling two years in rehabilitation, gaining her muscle mass and putting meat back onto her bones from seventy decades of starvation. They do not need to know about her days during the wars, staving off death in anyway possible. Sometimes losing, sometimes saving a being who is merely a shell of their former self. They do not need to know, and they will not. Because to them Hazel is someone they can only wish to be, without the torment inside.


She sips her coffee gingerly, worried it may still be too hot. It isn’t, thank the heavens. It had become tortuous to just simply hold the drink. It’s for only a moment when she feels whole. Like maybe she could belong here, until she begins to study those she passes out of the corner of her amber eyes. A man and a woman, arms interlocked and smiles plastered on their faces. A group of young girls whispering in each other’s ear, giggles bubbling out of their throats. The satisfaction felt seconds ago diminishes. She cannot be complete without others, for what is life if it is not shared? Hazel takes another sip, but in that same moment the sidewalk became uneven. Her mind fell back down from the clouds, but it was not fast enough. If it weren’t for her terribly clompy boots, she would have caught herself the moment her toe misstepped. Except, she didn’t. Her knees hit the ground first, followed by the heels of her hands. Coffee pours onto the pavement, cup sideways and plastic lid unattached. A string of violent curses spill from her mouth.



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