North

Within the Northern vicinity of the city, the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high-class architecture. The pristine streets are paved with stone and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting - for the right clientele. In the North, every establishment is eager to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - whether it happens to be illegal or merely involves looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allows them the luxuries that the North provides.

What You'll Find Here

Eternity
The VooDoo Room
The Witchery

Eternity

The newly opened Eternity is an expensive fine dining restaurant nestled high upon the hills of the North - providing it a breathtaking view of the city below. The award-winning chefs at Eternity collaborate directly with local farmers and producers to source the freshest ingredients for its ever-changing menu. The staff at Eternity pride themselves on serving each customer's unique dietary needs - from the vampiric to the mortal races. Reservations are strongly encouraged as Eternity is frequently booked to capacity.

The VooDoo Room

Located in the heart of the North, the Voodoo Room is the spirits lover's destination of choice in Sacrosanct. The Voodoo room is a craft cocktail bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. Nestled among the William Morris wallpaper, gold, and wood, you will find a new kind of neighborhood cocktail bar. One where hospitality and skill work in concert. With intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe, the Voodoo room will keep you coming back for more. Guided by the mantra of providing a one of a kind, high-end experience, the Voodoo Room's mixologists meet the highest standards with a fantastically themed selection of cocktails and specials.

The Witchery

Dark, Gothic, and thoroughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's lavish, theatrical suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence, and luxury. From the Vestry to the Library and the Armory, the suites of the Witchery are nothing short of sensually romantic. A stay at the Witchery is not complete without dining in the rich baroque surroundings of the original oak-paneled hotel or among the elegant candle-lit charms of the Secret Garden. Whether you stay or dine, The Witchery is an unforgettably magical experience.

ice, ice baby


Posted on September 04, 2016 by Rixon Leifsson
North
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He is so distinctly aware of the thoughts that his mere presence seems to erupt within the woman, scattering her sadness and so blossoming within her a wealth of ideal...daydreams of a sort punctuated by a nervous embarrassment that her thoughts should linger upon a shared moment from months ago and her fear that he might hear them. When the thoughts of another are about himself it far, far easier to find them, very little of her memories concealed from him and yet he remains content to act as if he cannot hear them at all. His features remaining guarded as always, as if whatever thoughts turned within his own head took far more of his attention then her own. For all he was, for all the cruelty so many so seemed determined to pain him with, the man hardly held it within himself to embarrass an already distraught girl by calling her out upon a moment that he too recalled- a personal one at that. Frost himself was a distinctly private individual and indeed she is afforded that same grace from him. Little more than the slight upward turn of his lips offered in response to the lingering memories he had glimpsed.

He moves easily to position himself upon the bench beside her, his clothing as sodden as her own, much of his snowy-white hair plastered to his own head by the rain, droplets of water running in thins rivulets across his own features. He hardly felt the chill of the wind upon his form however, his own affinity so protecting him from the unpleasantness of weather when he so chose it and yet the shivering of the blonde woman beside him is hardly missed. Whether she is cold form the effects of her own power or simply some manner of exhaustion- emotional or otherwise he hardly knows. His affinity further extend so silently from himself to embrace her and allow that heat to surround her and chase away the cold. His gaze focused ahead all the while. Emotions after all, are hardly his own area of expertise. He cares little for them at the best of times, his own so tightly controlled he had developed near a reputation of sorts for being as cold as his moniker and yet some things were better left concealed and unfelt. Some things were distinctly easier that way- his own form of protection perhaps and yet there were others far more inclined to be as the woman beside him and so let every emotion run its course. If a lifetime of being surrounded by women had ever allowed the man to develop an understanding then it was most assuredly that women so tended to be more prone to these emotional floods. Her attempt at a joke, weak though it was, sees his gaze return to her own, his shoulders lifting in manner nonchalant.

"It is no more than wet horse."

Whether this was, indeed, an attempt at a joke or merely a simple assurance that he was hardly concerned with this notion of wet dog remained to be seen, the words offered smoothly all the same as he let back upon the bench. One leg folds over the other with laconic ease, his own lips parted to inquire as to just exactly what it was the girl seemed so depressed about as to render a rainstorm upon them. The girl he had known some months prior replaced with this mere shadow of a creature and her red-rimmed eyes that betrayed the tears the rain washed away. How truly strange crying was, his own features frowning ever so briefly at the thought that struck his own mind in that moment. Frost truly unable to recall the last time he had ever cried. He must have been a child....her response turns the mans attention onto her once more. Her grandparents? A death then, of a family member. This perhaps so explaining the woman's tears. Any words he may well have offered are cut short by her continued story, the man allowing the faintest of frowns to touch his features until the girl has spoken her piece entirely. His own words picked with a distinct care of sorts.

"It is not a shameful thing to cry."

At least, it was not for her- not about that. This notion of funerals something of an oddity to the man all the same. How many of his own siblings were dead? How many had ever had funerals? Hunter's did not bury their horses with ceremony or a church service, there was no goodbye and perhaps in that fashion Frost remains distinctly...removed from such a thing. So many had died that he no longer felt it at all. It was not worth his time to feel it. He did not have enough feeling within him to feel it as it should be felt, like this, like Scarlett. He hadn't then and he didn't know. He had become very near numb to the idea of death if only because everyone died, everyone left. He had learned such a lesson far younger then she yet he wonders still if he had looked so wretched as this the day he had learned just how truly harsh the world was. He had been younger, far younger than her. Maybe that was the last time he had ever cried. He certainly hadn't since. There is, perhaps, a myriad of things he might say this a situation he knew all too well and yet there was something decidedly...hopeful about the girl still. Something that, for whatever reason he remains unwilling to so crush though he hardly knows why he seeks to spare her that pain by assuring her that she was indeed alone, that in some ways she always would be, she could rely on none but herself in the end and the sooner she learned such a thing the better. Yet for now however- the man offers an entirely different set of words.

"I am sorry for your grandparents. Loss of those you care for is never easy and you will not forget them. We do not forget easily. Cry for them, if you need to, but when you are done consider instead that the life you lived is the past now. They are gone and you no longer have anything to tie you to the place that was your home- do not think of it as loss so much as change. You do not have nothing- you merely have every opportunity now to make yourself something.

It is, perhaps, a truly unique way of viewing the situation and yet, perhaps, it is his own more gentle attempt to so explain the world as he had once seen it. She need not forget those she had loved, but she need move past them and focus her attention instead not upon what she did not have, but what she might- with nothing and no one to so prevent her from so being however she might choose to be. There was something....freeing in no longer holding those burdens of the past- if only she so chose it to be that way. Her gaze breaks from his own to look upon the ground, Frost continuing to watch her all the same.

"I might be able to provide you with something, if you're so inclined and even if only until you decide just who you want to be. My pack has space for another. Though I am ill inclined to take you there if you shall create rain within my living room, are there to be more tears today?"

There is something....almost gentle in the words, almost, the stallion so attempting to at least try to present the woman with some understanding and perhaps the faintest touch of humour within. If she desired companion, in the least, a purpose to exist- then these things he could provide.




Frostbite
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