Sacrosanct contains four distinct neighborhoods, each with their own specific kind of houses and residents. Explore our districts, view lists of our citizens and enjoy our block parties!
Situated above the daily life of the city, Anacosta Heights is a tucked away suburb featuring extravagant neo-gothic inspired mansions. The inhabitants of this neighborhood often show their overwhelming wealth with sports cars lining their long, circular driveways, large pools, and manicured gardens. The homeowners of Anacosta Heights treasure their privacy as seen by the high iron gates to the security personnel present at every entrance.
Dupont Circle is a small suburban neighborhood settled within the serene portion of the southern portion of town. These four-bedroom, single-family homes feature back yards, porches, garages, and far more breathing space then the Village offers. This neighborhood often is more family orientated and even has organized events for children and the neighborhood as a whole.
Settled in the middle of downtown, Hawthorn Village consists of several victorian inspired row houses just off the main street. Due to it's convenience to just about everything, the village can be a tad expensive to live within. However, the residents of this neighborhood often have two to three-story townhouses, often with a one to two-car garage. Many of the houses feature bay windows and/or rooftop terraces with a small fenced-in 'yard'.
River Dale primarily consists of apartments that, despite their age and industrial appearing interior, still hold to the Victorian history that permeates the town. These apartments are often the cheapest option and sport scuffed, older wooden floors, open floor plans, visible beams, and the occasional brick wall.
How close Alistair had come to death, of that the artist was absolutely certain. He remembered what it was like, the blood all but pooling around his increasingly cold figure. He remembered with such painful clarity how tired he had become. It had been so tempting to just close his eyes and rest, if a part of him hadn't been so convinced that doing so would be the very last thing he had ever done. It was so utterly strange to hold such memories of walking the very line between life and death only to find himself seated at a small table in a stranger's apartment with but scarce a scratch upon his ivory skin. The blood upon his trenchcoat was perhaps the only proof of the previous evening. That inquiry of whether or not it was impressive caused Alistair's kelly green irises to turn upwards towards the Hunter across from him. "...yeah, I guess...." The artist responded with some level of hesitance. Any further conversation, however, was momentarily put aside when Alistair was presented with the prospect of both food and drink. He hadn't realized, admittedly, how utterly dehydrated he was until that disliked Gatorade bottle was in hand. It was only that inquiry of how he felt that prompted him to pause, only to offer the realization that his head was killing him. The whole world somehow seemed...different. Brighter. Louder. More intense. It seemed ridiculous as he admitted it out loud and yet, he tried to reason it away as he drank half of that bottle of Gatorade.
His intensely vibrant gaze shifted back towards Adrien as the Hunter shifted uneasily within his seat. That explanation he was provided only served to prompt the corner of his lips to pull down in a clear frown. He had heard, of course, of the Dark Hunter's role as 'protectors', though Alistair had never thought himself one to fit such a role. "Skills?" Alistair inquired, his eyebrow rose inquisitively. It was that insistence to eat, however, that prompted the artist into silence as he plucked his fork from the table - biting upon the steaming stirfry in front of him. His belly, it seemed was as ravenous as his throat had been parched. He had only just swallowed that first bite when already Adrien began his own interrogation - one that centered primarily around the Southern vampire that had been so content to tear Alistair apart in a desperate attempt for the blood in his veins. Unfortunately, the artist had distinctly little details of the cowboy to provide, beyond the misfortune of stumbling upon the man's cat. Really, it had been dumb of him to pick up the strange cat. It had hardly been domestic by any means. Alistair's gaze darkened at the suggestion that he'd fallen for a mere ruse, hinting at the very anger the newly turned Dark Hunter was more than capable of. Even so, he provided Adrien with little more than a scoff, his own attention far more focused upon the singular word his savior had uttered: immortality. That term was one Alistair was vastly more invested in. What did being immortal mean for him? Much less his own future?
Alistair was deathly silent as he listened intently to every syllable Adrien uttered. Immortal. He could live forever....like this....for an eternity. Why Adrien had gone through such trouble to become...this was altogether baffling for the Artist. Why would anyone want to become a Dark Hunter - unless he had a vendetta against the supernatural he so hunted? It was a likely prospect and the only one that seemed sensible. The alternative, that Adrien was little more than a rash man that had thrown away his mortality for a life of violence, was one Alistair hardly wished to consider. After all, whether he liked it or not, Adrien had changed him...and surely that meant...something, didn't it? His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as Adrien continued to list the very 'perks' that came with his transformation if they could be called that. Frankly, Alistair was viewing distinctly little of his change as a blessing in any manner. It was that promise to help him, however, that finally prompted the man to break his momentary silence. "Thank you." Despite how...unenthused he seemed about his current predicament, there was no doubting the genuineness behind those two words. Slowly, Alistair's hand rose to riffle through his own dark brunette locks. He was hardly certain what he wanted with this new life - if he wanted to become....one of them...that is, more than he already was. It was a lot to decide for one night and one he, quite frankly, wasn't ready yet to face. "I'll...think about it," Alistair promised, his gaze finally dropping back down to the food on his plate. Suddenly dinner seemed far more appetizing than those questions that had once lingered so potently upon his mind.
Adrien, similarly, seemed to fall prey to the very same silence - both men far more occupied, simultaneously, by the food in front of them. Alistair was hardly aware of the thoughts that lingered upon his maker's brain, nor was he at all prepared for the man's suddenly inquiry about hearts. His features twisted in blatant incredulousness, the artist quickly inquiring if Adrien was serious. Really? Hearts? Oh, you just nearly died and now you're immortal but let's talk about hearts? He reached for that pink sticky note, the man leaning back in his chair as his emerald eyes brushed over the large bubbly handwriting. He all but ignored his maker's floundering, his own thoughts focused entirely upon the sticky note in front of him. Alistair's gaze flickered up towards the Hunter across from him before he attempted some level of an answer, not that the artist had ever really don't well for himself with the opposite gender. His answer, however, seemed to blossom some level of hope within the man across from him. Whoever Audi was, it was clear that Adrien felt...something for her. His inquiry on who Audi was, however, seemed to prompt an unusual (well, unusual for what he'd gathered from that brief conversation) timidness within the Hunter. Did his...cheeks just turn pink? Oh Jesus. "A girl, huh?" Alistair inquired, his brow rose as he watched Adrien attempt to regather his composure. "You seem to have a thing for saving people from vampires." The artist observed as he glanced down at the sticky note in his hand. Carefully, he offered the crumpled note back to Adrien, "So...are you going to ask her out or something?" Well...Adrien had said he had no one to talk to about this, right? And he clearly wanted to...talk about this. God, Alistair never thought he'd be playing wingman but...if this was what his maker needed...surely, Alistair owed him that much.