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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

EACH DAY IS A GIFT, NOT A GIVEN RIGHT [OPEN]12.216.225.10Posted On February 23, 2018 at 10:28 AM by ROMAN

Leave No Stone Unturned, Leave Your Fears Behind

Only when weak sunlight begins to leak through those cheap and dusty curtains covering that single window in his small hotel room do golden-hazel eyes slowly begin to open to a brand-new day. The man stirs groggily beneath those satisfactory sheets, the old, used mattress creaking as he shifts ever so slightly. Rolling over onto his back, strong arms expose his bare chest to the chill, something that he always welcomed first thing in the morning. It helped him wake up a little quicker, knowing that he could easily spend more time than he really should shut away in his temporary dwelling in the dark and sleep for hours. Perhaps that was the lion in him, or just that easy-going nature of his that brought forth such a contentment to waste the day away. After all, the man hardly had anything planned when he’d arrived here within Sacrosanct only a short week ago. In truth, he’d nearly considered simply passing through on his way as lackadaisical strides carried him into the furthest reaches of the city’s borders, and yet it had… called to him in a way unlike most places he’d been. One might think it was odd, the Mediterranean man appearing essentially out of anywhere and nowhere in particular, walking into the city with only a single messenger bag sling across his well-muscled frame. He’d always traveled lightly, hitch-hiked down those more “off the beaten trail” roads where perhaps if he grew tired of walking he would wave down a pick-up truck or something that might give him a ride to the next little town or even just a hotel tucked away “between worlds”. Roman could easily be pegged for as a homeless person in all reality, through the eyes of those who did take a moment to observe the man. He carried with him a few days’ worth of clothes, sentimental photographs of his family, and the few bare essentials that he needed to get by. Thankfully, the man did still care very much about his appearance, showering daily and keeping himself well-groomed. Again, perhaps that was the big cat that ushered forth such care that he didn’t look like he didn’t have a penny to his name. He was far from well off, on occasion needing to “rough it” and search for some yardwork or any kind of odd job to refill his leather trifold whenever it grew a little too thin for his comfort. Such was the life of a vagabond though, and he would hardly trade it for all the gold and silver in the world. There was a pride and pleasure that he took in being able to make his own way without having to rely on anyone else, even if it meant having to stay a night in an abandoned barn just to have a place for those fleeting twilight hours that would come and go before the sun would rise again and he would be on his way to no place in particular.

Groaning as he stretches within the comforts of that bed, he allows for his awareness to set fully on him, hands running through golden-brown hair before tucking it beneath his head as he lay there staring up at the ceiling. He’d need to get another under-the-table job soon. His last venture from the countryside had left him with a fair amount of money, enough to spend on a month’s worth of rent here in this run-down hotel and food – when he wasn’t out in the thick of the woods getting it himself – to fill the mini fridge that sat there under the bathroom counter, plus a little extra to spend carefully on whatever he might want. Like a decent breakfast. Or lunch maybe, depending on when he was finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting against the roof and the window, deciding that perhaps today he would investigate the more populated places at the city’s heart. He already knew that Hyde Park would be impossible to out-do, finding that sense of pure freedom and the simplest existence when he could roam through the trees without having to concern himself over who it was he might find himself in close quarters with. While it wasn’t that the man was uncomfortable in crowds or around other beings, living alone for the past year was enough to make his acceptance of company that much more fragile. One might almost think him a recluse of sorts, and maybe to some degree of the definition, he was. Then again, he’d been raised in a large family with little to no need for friendship beyond his kin, so maybe his social skills weren’t as finely tuned as most? It hardly mattered, though. He neither sought such bonds nor would he turn them away should they find him, but Roman was not the sort to lead anyone on. The man hardly lingered in one place for long, so those friendships he had built in the past would crumble into nothing beyond a fond memory when the time came that he ended up practically vanishing, leaving next to nothing behind that might suggest he’d ever been there to begin with. Some would say that such a life was a lonely one, and there was no denying that it was, but he didn’t mind the quiet. Most of the time. There was still that part of him which missed knowing what it felt like to be part of something that might rise in the man and compel him to be more welcome towards the idea of meeting someone if only so he might not forget his own voice and the capability of making a genuine connection with another soul.

Finally finding it in himself to pull off those covers entirely, the were makes his way across the small room and into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping into the cracked and worn porcelain tub, drawing the nearly see-through plastic shower curtains. A deep sigh of contentment is pulled from him as he revels in the wonders of a good, hot shower, the steam quickly filling that small bathroom and leaking out into the rest of the hotel room to fog up that one small window. After he’s showered and dried himself, he moves into the room with that rough white towel wrapped around his waist as he rummages through the messenger bag and retrieves a well-cared for – though slightly wrinkled – stark white button-up short and dark jeans as well as pair of clean boxer briefs. He dresses quickly, leaving those first few buttons undone so that it didn’t feel like he was choking before running a comb through his hair in his typical “I care enough to brush but not put gel in” look. Satisfied, he retrieves his wallet, cheap tracphone, and room key, shoving them into the front pocket of his jeans before grabbing the black leather jacket resting over the back of the single chair in the room beside the tiny coffee table and slinging it around him, arms sliding easily into the sleeves before he exists his dwelling. Closing and locking the door, he then begins that leisurely walking pace with hands shoved into his pockets as golden-hazel eyes cast themselves over the various shops and buildings. Of course, none of it really looked familiar to Roman, but they wouldn’t since he’d hardly paid them any mind on his initial arrival, his mind having been set on finding a cheap place to stay that was at least halfway decent. He walks without stopping, hardly glancing at the churning sea of nameless faces around him as he went, only pausing when he comes to what looked like a little Irish pub, the sign above the door reading “Red on the Water”. Hmmm. Sounds interesting enough, he thinks idly to himself, before turning towards the door and stepping inside. He seats himself at a booth in the far corner away from most of the patrons talking amongst each other, heads not even bothering to turn which was perfectly fine by him. He offers the waitress a courteous smile as she walks over and deposits a menu in front of him.”Do you know what you’d like to drink, sir?”, she asks brightly, Roman not even turning his gaze to glance at the menu.”Just a glass of water, please”, he replies simply, deep baritones warm in that neutral and polite way. She nods to him then before turning on black flats and moves back towards the kitchen. It is then that he turns to study the menu given to him, eyes traveling over the items that were offered for lunch.


Roman Royce
dante|image by jens linder



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