• Edit

    The South

    Although the southern parts of the city might not have the luxuries of the north or the down town vibe of the east, but these suburbs still have their own sort of charm. Here small neighborhood owned shops often run rampant, individuals often know each other by first name. The west is a quaint, quiet part of town. It's the sort of place where children can be seen playing safely on the sidewalks and clamoring in the park. On the weekends in the families often take to the beach to enjoy the warm waters that surround the city.

    What's You'll Find Here

  • Edit

    Beachside Bar & Bistro

    owned by Adelaide Labelle
    3 employees

    Beachside Bar & Bistro

    Resting right on the beach near the small, locally owned shops and markets sits a bar and bistro with an elegant yet modern interior. There is seating both indoors and outdoors on the back patio where one can enjoy the melodic sounds of saltwater waves and fresh air. The menu consists of French dishes alongside American and Seafood choices and a wide range of liquors at the bar inside to accommodate the varied tastes and cravings of its customers. It is a charming little establishment that allows for those needing a break from the busy city streets to come and unwind.

    Owner Adelaide Labelle

    Barkeeper Killian Carrick
    Waitress Abigail Hughes
    Waitress Elain Daray

  • Edit

    Hyde Park

    Hyde Park

    Hyde Place takes up a large part of the Southern side of the city and includes a large playground, several fountains, and a small garden. The park is open from five in the morning till midnight though many shady characters may visit this place while it's technically "closed". The park has also been a venue for several concerts and hosts many holiday related events. Under a full moon, witches are often seen here for the sacred ground beneath the iconic Weeping Beech.

  • Edit

    The Outskirts

    The Outskirts

    Beyond the city limits and over the bridge lies the deep, dark, and almost impenetrable forest. Often times seen as a way to guard this magical city from the world that surrounds it, many are entirely ignorant of the evil that may creep between those tree trunks. Many were-creatures use the forest for the transformations of their newest members and some even take to hunting here. It isn't particularly peculiar for people to go missing within this forest but once you get through, the rest of the world awaits.

EVERY GOOD THING WILL COME IN MODERATION107.77.97.112Posted On March 06, 2018 at 7:28 AM by ROMAN

Leave No Stone Unturned, Leave Your Fears Behind

Perfection was not such a quality to truly exist, or at least not in many aspects. There were many things that the were had come to see with his own golden-hazel eyes. Being the observant and perhaps even curious creature that he was about those around him and the world that he walked through, he had seen many things, and the true definition of perfection was not something he could readily say he had been able to witness often – especially when it came to people, or beings if one wanted to be technical. To be perfect, one must be without flaw. And, to be without flaw meant that there was nothing that could be done or even just ventured to better grow oneself. So, how it was that any one being could dare to claim that they were perfect, that they were the epitome of what the very word meant was far from his understanding. Even if such a thing were possible, to achieve this state of existence where they could not better themselves by even the most miniscule of means, where was the wonder of living? The very idea of being perfect, of being able to neither go forward in life or backwards as many often times did, sounded like it would be nothing but some sort of miserable trap, and Roman could hardly think that he could stay in one place or state of mind for the rest of his days and be even remotely content. He would be among the first to openly admit that he was far from godliness, falling very much short of the definition of perfection. If he were perfect, he would not be reckless. If he were perfect, his patience, his wisdom, it would all be wholly eternal and without the slightest of missing fragments. Roman held none of these qualities nor did he fit any of the criteria for such a surely mundane and uneventful life, and the were could not be more content and at peace with this ready confession that would find not only his mind but his tongue should any dare to ask him if he considered himself with such high – or in his opinion, arrogant – regard, if he saw himself in such a haughty light that placed him about all others, and he would answer with pride that he never has or ever would find himself in such place or mindset.

Besides, where was the thrill or the adventure in such a fabled thing as being perfect? Was it not a large part of what made life worthwhile, making those mistakes however big or small? No one sought failure. At least, no one that he knew. Roman himself did not look with wanderlust down the path that would most likely only end in suffering or despair. Buried deep within most every living thing was that primal determination to survive where thriving was not a possibility, and so in the end, it was only natural that those seeking a life of longevity and prosperity would not be that careless as to put themselves in the path of unnecessary harm or unfavorable circumstance. Even Roman himself, while with a tendency to very much be reckless and leap into those uncharted waters before looking every now and again when the moment was right – or wrong depending on how one might perceive things – was far from entirely and hopelessly foolish. Yes, there was something about the way that he felt in those moments of unknowing, teetering on the edge of risk with eyes closed to see where it was that he would fall as his heart would thunder wildly within his chest and he found that high in how adrenaline would race fiercely through his veins like the very crimson life force that kept him breathing. He would not go as far as to say that he needed that rush in his day to day life. In fact, he believed that chasing that indescribable sensation relentlessly was hardly a good thing, if only for the fact that he was almost entirely certain he would find himself having to push ever harder to bring himself to that high that made him feel so alive and free. He would have to go further than he would ever want to in order to get just a small taste of the thrill again. It was like a drug, that surge of endorphins that would flood his senses, and he was all too aware that the term “adrenaline junkie” was a very real one. That was the last thing that he ever wanted to find himself addicted to. It wasn’t just foolish, it was dangerous, and while the lion did not shy away from potentially dangerous situations if they would find him, he was not about to be wholly consumed by the thrill that came with those risks that he would take in life.

Hence why it just so happened that the were was partaking in one of his other favorite passtimes; basking. There was little that compared to the soothing touch of the sun on his golden fur, the way that it seeped into his skin and warmed him down to his very core. That was the upside of the lifestyle that Roman led, living each and every day one at a time. He took a great deal of pleasure in enjoying the smaller things that those in the “fast lane” missed out on. Things like a good sunning spot on a large boulder were often overlooked if not underappreciated, and what with the lion having nowhere in particular that he needed to be today nor did he have anyone that he was due to meet with at some sort of preordained rendezvous, what better to do than slow down and take a moment to revel in all that the world provided? The birds in the trees singing the melodies of their kind, each small voice unique from the next… the buzzing of those very first brave insects to appear from their hiding places as if they could feel the fast approach of spring and, in turn, the arrival of blossoming flowers… everything in nature was beginning to come alive as the cold hands of winter loosened its grip on this part of the world. If ever there was anything as close to perfection as he thought possible, it would be this very afternoon promising of warmer weather and lush green to come. He could lay there for hours more, alone and without a care in the world as to what happened beyond the trees that encircled this small clearing that enveloped him in that sense of peace and tranquility he would never tire of indulging himself in. Here, there was no need to wonder what the next moment might bring. Here, his mind was still and calm, like that of a quiet and pristine lake where not even the wind dared to breathe over its glass-like surface. Here, everything was simple and it left Roman in such a state of contentment that not even the soft sound of someone significantly smaller than himself drawing ever closer from within the shelter of the trees could bring the lion to lift his head as his breaths came in a slow and steady rythym, golden-hazel eyes remaining closed as he lingers there on that fine edge of wakefulness, so much so that he had nearly fallen into a peaceful sleep. Until soft claws on stone announced the closeness of his unexpected company.

Roman does not move, even when he can feel small paws on golden fur as the creature climbs over the lion only to pause there on his side that rose and fell softly. Startling this new presence was last thing that he wanted, especially since even small creatures had their own lines of defense. It is when that small weight suddenly shifts only to end in the smaller being sliding over his side and landing with a full thud on the stone against his underbelly. Only now does the lion shift himself until he is in a more upright position laying there on his sunning rock. Golden-hazel eyes did not quite expect to see a red panda of all things, but then again it wasn't every day one came across a massive and muscular african lion sprawled out on a boulder on the outskirts of a city either. They state at one another for a time before her small voice pipes up and he blinks curious depths slowly before his own deep baritone reply. It seems that any previous reservations she might have had about him just moments ago vanish like morning frost beneath the warm touch of the rising sun, excitement brightening small chocolate brown eyes as her voice takes on a note clear giddiness as she practically hops closer to him, the purr-like hum still tumbling from his throat as he regards her warmly. How she reminded him of Dea..."I've wandered many places and seen many things. Only once before have I come across one of your kind, but you are certainly not any of those other creatures", he replies warmly as amusement flickers through his expression when she moves ever closer and rises up onto her haunches. Her next words usher forth into a question, curiosity illuminating her features then and as his maw parts slightly to answer, a look of realization finds the panda and he can't help the soft yet deep chuckle that rolls from his throat."That I was, but I hardly mind the unexpected company", he answers although no sooner than those words leave Roman does the panda fall back onto all four small paws as her gaze shifts to the treeline, her next bright words having his own golden-hazel gaze moving to the clearing touched entirely by the sun save for the shadows that the ancient oaks and evergreens would would cast."I'm sorry, I haven't Miss Panda. Although, I am sure he has friends around somewhere", he answers with that amusement touching tenor tones as a single ear flicks amidst his thick mane.

There had been mang days not too unlike this one where his younger sister would come piling onto him and beg the lion to play with her, to muse her in whatever game that she so desired, and Roman was always happy to oblige Dea in whatever adventures that she sought that day. This was no different for him, and so at her second string of words on if he liked butterflies, that usually calm expression shifts into something softer."I do, actually. Monarchs are my favorite", he replies in an almost gentle way. It seemed odd perhaps, a powerful beast such as Roman truly finding the small and fluttering insects worth admiring, but he did. He enjoyed them for their grace and their beauty, How they seemed to go wherever the soft breeze would carry them. As if at the mere mention, there is movement that catches his keen eyes and he turns his proud head towards the outskirts of the clearing to see the sun touch on the soft yellow wings of a pale swallowtail butterfly as it danced on the soft breeze. Roman then casts a playful look towards the panda, wondering if she saw the creature as well that just seemed to be calling them."Shall we see if he might know where his friend is?", he asks his companion then, heaving himself to stand on all fours, sinewy muscle rippling as they flexed beneath his fur before he easily leaps off his sunning rock. He'd had enough napping for one afternoon, and there was something about the russet creature that had literally stumbled onto him that just seemed to encourage that part of Roman only his family knew. He glances over his shoulder, long and tuffed tail flicking as he waits patiently to see if she would want to join him in what surely seemed to an outsider like an absolutely silly chase of a butterfly. Ah, but the lion had grown up with a readiness in his heart to entertain his younger siblings, and for reasons he had yet to understand himself, he saw no reason why he should not partake in such antics or games with the red panda. Part of him wandered why it was that she was out here on her own, knowing that while he had nothing to concern himself with as far as other creatures attempting to make a meal of him, it was an entirely different story for her. He does not ask though, not yet. He was hardly the type to probe others, never having enjoyed it much when others felt the need to seek answers that he was not so willing to give. And so, he waits for her although he was almost completely certain she would be plenty eager to begin "the hunt" if she were anything remotely similar to his younger sister.


Roman Royce
dante|image by jack cain



Replies

Post A Reply