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    The West

    The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a certain grunge that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, instead letting the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Noah's Ark

    owned by Aiden Tetradore
    1 employees

    Noah's Ark

    Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.

    Owner Aiden Tetradore

    Co-owner Tobias Cain

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    Warehouse District

    Warehouse District

    The warehouse district rests just upon the harbor within the city. Many of the warehouses belong to corporate companies although some are used for less the legal means. Be careful when wandering this district at night for many groups meet within those dark, dilapidated buildings. There are also whispers of hard to obtain goods being sold behind those closed doors but you have to know who's who to get an in!

others say in ice121.215.163.149Posted On November 19, 2017 at 11:50 PM by Rixon Leifsson

He had, perhaps, already anticipated that near sheepish look he was fitted with as he inquired after that bag of clothes she had slung over her shoulders. Frost readily anticipating that it was yet another bag of laundry. Really, he supposed, he should be thankful the woman had taken to wearing clothes at all. Malia at last seeming to have managed to grasp onto that idea of what was and was not acceptable to wear out of the house. Frost having made several more trips to that store after that initial visit they had made together to make sure she had enough to put together at least a small wardrobe for herself. Regardless of her decidedly unusual upbringing the man was determined that no member of his pack was going to walk around in clothes that barely fit like some sort of street urchin- or worse- nothing at all. Malia, much like Claire, having been somewhat resistant to the idea at first and yet over time the woman seemed to have come to accept them. As appealing as it might have been to enjoy those feminine figures, Frost was distinctly more determined to assure she was fit for surviving in that human world. A part of the stallion entirely protective over those he called his own. After all, he had been there before. On the other side of that spectrum. Far more animal then man. He knew that struggle as much as he knew how easily there would be those individuals whom would use Malia’s naivety to their advantage. He could hardly prepare the woman for every single challenge in her life, yet, the war horse was nearly determined to try. Even if he hardly made those intentions clear. Frost content to watch over her even without her knowledge. His eyes rising slightly at her mention those dirty clothes were on the floor and that she had seen someone- once- use a washer and dryer before. That sigh drawn from him then.

“I would feel more comfortable if you let me show you how it is done rather then you just pressing any button you feel like. You will flood our house and I will be distinctly displeased when you do. I will show you tonight- or in the morning- if you have some prior engagement tonight?”

That question was deliberately pointed, Frost entirely curious of just where she was going tonight. The coyote clearly intending to disappear as she had done most nights prior. Frost eyeing her beneath that white forelock with some vague level of intrigue. That stallion querying then on just where she had been of late. It would be easy, truly, to merely peer into her mind and find out exactly what she was keeping from him and yet some part of the man was willing to afford her the privacy still. He was offering her that chance to tell him rather than for him to pilfer her thoughts as he was so capable of doing. As long as she was hardly in some sort of trouble, he supposed, he saw little need to stop her from those nightly adventures. That sudden response that she had been doing no more the wondering met with an almost dubious look from the often indifferent stallion. For someone claiming to be doing nothing she attended to it frequently. Did she think him a fool? Frost hardly pressing her all the same in that moment. The man decidedly patient with those he called his own.

Her gaze averted from him then, the woman near muttering that comment about her previous pack and how they had chased her from amongest there ranks- and there it was. Frost entirely sure that was the crux of this matter rather than anything else. A part of the man distinctly displeased at the idea of another causing her any undue distress and yet he himself had perhaps anticipated that very…clash of ideas, so to speak, between her former pack and that new life Malia had undertaken. He had hardly anticipated the woman might seek them out again so soon and yet it mattered little now. That promise to do better waved easily way with his hand.

“I think we can forgive your laundry offences to night.”

He offered simply. The man leaning back against that bannister railing then. Frost considering his own thoughts for several seconds before one hand reached up, brushing that striking white hair aside to afford her that rarely seen view of his own violet gaze. That blind right eye slightly paler then the left. Frost weighing his own words then. Emotional depth perhaps not the strongest of his abilities.

“Why did you go back to see them?”

There was hardly any judgement in those words, the stallion merely curious, the sentence offered simply and yet he almost anticipated she might hardly choose to answer it. He knew, he supposed, why she had gone back already and yet whether she intended to state it or not was another matter. Frost continuing to rest against that bannister rail for a few moments longer. Frost speaking abruptly once more.

“It’s hard- coming from a pack like that. One that doesn’t understand. The pack I was born into wasn’t quite the same. They shifted between human and horse, they knew they were not just animals- but it was a gated community- that means generations of us were born in the same place, they never left, never saw the world. It breeds….ignorance.”

Frost paused in that moment. Allowing Malia to process the words and that explanation he offered her of ‘gated community; that man leaving out many of those details all the same. After all, Frost rarely spoke of that past he had left behind and yet- why should Malia believe she was alone in trying to understand that world when he had been there too?

“No one could read or write, they feared the outside world. Some branded me a traitor when I ran away, some labelled me a hero and yet the name doesn’t matter. In the end I was the same as you. I’d never even seen a car before I left, let alone a train or a bus. I’d never seen a city or other species outside of Were’s. Never seen a TV. I didn’t know a world existed and it was fucking hard to learn what other people grew up knowing of it. The pack you left will never understand why you left- because they are not brave enough to try. Once you get a taste for the world it is hard to go back to the way you were. Living is addictive. Either way- it is they who don’t understand. You don’t need them anymore- it hurts- but it’s true. Make of it what you will.”

f r o s t
we built this city on broken glass


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