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.
no matter where you go, I'll find you
Ah, but how Alexander would have enjoyed hearing Harley's words in that moment as the women queried whether or not the Hunters abilities allowed him to 'change the world'. Alexander, Matteo knew, would have staunchly insisted he could. That world was, and always had been, merely his own for the taking. It was that very nature, perhaps, that so gifted Alexander that affinity for change to begin with. Of all the men Matteo had known in his time- and indeed, it was a great many, Alexander was perhaps the most......assured of himself. His Father was unflappable, no matter the odds. Alexander was determined even when Fate itself seemed destined to desire his failure. It was a truly rare talent. One further buoyed by Alexander's ego in turn and yet- that ego made the man so very much of who and what he was. Matteo was assured he would have him no other way. Harley's question, however, prompted the Frenchmans lips to tug softly upward, a look near impish danced upon his ever-youthful features.
"He has already changed the world, Mon Cherie. In so many ways."
For all he teased his Father, for all he goaded him, Alexander's impact on the world could hardly be denied. Indeed, much of society functioned as it did today because of his work, his influence and his teachings. Alexander's impact could so hardly be understated and yet- Matteo so enjoyed irritating his companion by lessening his influence all the same. It had become a veritable form of....bonding for the pair. Curious though it was. How very much Matteo was assured he might have preferred that discussion of his father and his eccentrics rather than that conversation they seemed all but destined to fall within the moment he allowed Harley to capture that apple far too easily as he tossed it toward her. It had been a ploy, one designed to assure his own victory and one that Harley had fallen easily for in her efforts to outdo him. Yet- Matteo had hardly seen her own snare within it. The Frenchman perhaps willing to admit that, this time, he had been outdone by the raven haired woman. Her eternally sharp mind merely proved its veritable point. That verbal exchange between them near assured his defeat as his gaze shifted from Harley to the portrait of Isabella and back again. This topic, it seemed, was one the young woman was unwilling to merely allow to slide by. The very notion that he could simply refuse her those answers had readily occurred to him and yet how very.....ingracious such a thing seemed. After all they had already been through. He had invited Harley into his home, by his own choice and too- more than once- sought the woman's trust in him. Did she not, in turn, deserve but some of that trust returned?
The near heavy sigh that left the Frenchmans lips was perhaps telling of that internal discontent he found in that story and yet.....it had been.....so many years. It was foolish, he was certain, for those emotions to even hurt any longer. The dull ache of Isabella's death, even after all this time, was surely some weakness upon himself in his inability to move beyond it. Yet her tale was hardly any great secret. History itself told of her life and death within its pages and yet, somehow, it remained difficult all the same. Perhaps Alexander and Aiden were both right. Perhaps he was far too sentimental, too soft. Perhaps he always had been. Matteo found his way to that seat Harley offered all the same. The Frenchman took several more moments to consider those words before he, at last, made some effort to offer them. How differently he might well have done things were he given any chance to live them again and yet- such was life. Hindsight was as glorious as it surely was vindictive in its determined embrace. Even Matteo, for all the life he had lived, was so hardly at peace with those choices he had made. At least not all of them. Harley was silent throughout that tale, the young woman merely interjecting only those soft few questions. The Frenchman assured he could hardly begrudge her those answers. How desperately he strove to keep that....emotion from his words and yet how easily it found him all the same. Isabella, even now, remained a weakness for him. A chink in that armor he wore so very well. How often he so strove to....help those around him in accepting their past and future both and yet how desperately he shielded himself from his own. The very hypocrisy of it was hardly lost upon him. Matteo, even now, allowed a faint simper to find his lips at that consideration. How very keen his sense of the ridiculous remained.
Harley's soft query on the manner of changing fates prompted his silver gaze to shift away from that portrait and toward Harley's own. Matteo, in that moment, strove to afford her the most....simple answer he could. Fate itself was so very much a mystery, even to him, even after all this time and yet those beings existed, truly rare beings- whom fate could simply not grasp. His head nodded in agreement then.
"Yes, like my Alexander."
He had so hardly ever told Alexander that very thing, in truth he so expected the hunter already knew and yet it was near...fascinating to watch fate and future both near struggle to pull Alexander inward- only for the Hunter to so effortlessly sidestep destiny each and every time. How very curious that Alexander should find within his horse, no less, another being for whom fate struggled so desperately to hold. That final question upon Harley's lips so readily saw his thoughts shift once more. The near ancient fae, for the first time, near....flinching beneath that singular query on why he had not turned Isabella all those years ago. Why had he let her die. How very many questions he might surely have answered tonight and yet.....how he so....refused that singular one. That wound was so very far from healed. Even after all that time. That, surely, was a story for another night. His deflection was distinctly weak- even to his own ears and yet- whatever hurt had lingered within those accented words seemed to prompt Harley, for now, to allow that topic to falter. Matteo distinctly thankful to the young woman in that moment. Isabella's final hours remained a...sore point. A veritable mark agianst his soul he could so hardly remove. How he had tried to turn her- or rather- near desperately begged her to allow him. Even now, even so many centuries later, he still did not understand her refusal. She had chosen to die rather than live with himself and their son. Perhaps, somehow, he might yet forgive her for choosing to abandon him and yet....what Mother chose to leave their child? Dorian had needed her then. Desperately so. To be the parent he could not. Matteo perhaps was near unwilling to admit how very much he had needed her too- and how deeply that....rejection still continued to burn.
It was almost fitting, perhaps, that their conversation might shift toward the regrets of life and yet the near ancient Fae found himself far more willing to engage that very topic. Ah, but how very much he might have chosen to change! How very much of history he might have rewritten if so given the chance! Yet how very....irritated fate might surely have become with these actions. Regret, surely, was the veritable....con of an immortal life. There was endless time to question the past, to dwell upon it, to ache for those decisions poorly made. Harley's soft consideration that, perhaps, they were all merely masochists condemned to walk about in torment, so managed to prompt the faintest of simpers to Matteo's lips, his head titling ever so slightly as he regarded her near curiously. The warmth of her figure beside him was oddly...contentment in that moment.
"Oui, I suspect you might be right but that is why we have alcohol and why there are decades of my life I do not remember so well as I should."
That hitn of a simper lingered gently upon his features once more. Matteo, even now, so tugging at the veritable amusement to be found in that otherwise sombre conversation before that comfortable silence fell over them once more. How very...refreshing it was, for even a moment, to allow but some of those thoughts to be uttered into the open. Perhaps he had needed it. Even if he strove to return them to that far more....teasing conversation he so enjoyed. Harley, after all, was by far one of the most apt players he had met in decades. To waste such time with her would be nothing short of unfortunate and indeed- how eager he was to push away those thoughts of Isabella and the regret of a past he could not change. Sex, he was certain, was a far better topic. Along with his assurance that Harley would have made a rather exceptional immortal. The young Were shifted beside him then, her lips pressed to his cheek in a decidedly pleasant and yet chaste kiss- even if such a thing was accompanied by a pun of the very kind the Frenchman was assured was a crime to utter in any sense. Her very promise that such words were hardly the only sin she was inclined to commit were....intriguing. Her laughter nothing short of pleasant and yet- his soft suggestion of her own future seemed to shift her mood once more. How very subtle that change was and yet- how very good he had become at reading her. Perhaps so many years with aiden had afforded him that very skill to some extent.
Vampires were so very good at....prompting a darkness within others. Harley, just as Aiden, seeming to become near instantly closed off at even the mention of a future without Risque. Without Darcy. Without Syn. A hope they were so unwilling to entertain and yet how very meaningless that life would be without it. Hope, so very often, would surely be but all she had to cling to- even if she so hardly understood, here and now, just why he offered it. The warm simper upon his lips hardly faltered. Matteo's head so merely shaking gently.
"I know, Mon Cherie- but do you truly not believe me?"
How readily she might deny that idea of hope and yet how unwilling she would be to deny himself, Matteo, in that moment, distinctly aware of that veritable choice he so near forced from her in daring her to suggest she held no faith in him. Faith and hope, after all, went hand in hand. Matteo, just as he had done for Aiden, was determined to assure he continued to offer Harley those very things. Even if she did not yet understand just when she might need them- or indeed, quote how to use them. There was, he was certain, always room for hope. Ah, but how very unlike Aiden she was in her determination for an answer more concrete, more real. The young woman querying just what on earth he meant before her gaze met his own, her look unflinching in its determined hold. Matteo, this time, was hardly making any effort to look away. How readily she sought the truth- but oh how she had underestimated just who she played with tonight. What did she want?
"Until you decide, your future will continue to change. When you decide- so will your future."
Oh how well he knew just how irritating those words were! Dorian, after all, saw fit to complain at him over them often. Matteo so offering Harley a decidedly impish grin in that moment before the Frenchman disappeared altogether. Whether or not Harley would understand just exactly what he meant by those words remained to be seen. The decidedly impish Fae was nothing if not determined to turn that conversation away from...the reality of her life- even if only for one night. Harley's gasp of surprise at his sudden disappearance was hardly missed. The Frenchman abruptly reappeared behind the young woman then, his head resting within his palm as he leaned upon the back of the couch. She had been determined to find a scandal, had she not? Ah, but how very many of those he might offer her. That very suggestion of just what sort of scandal she sort was so easily queried in the same moments as the tips of his fingers found the warmth of the skin at the back of her neck. Her flesh was near gloriously sensitive. The mere scent of her in those moments was...appealing. Her words were hardly a disappointment in any sense as he chuckled softly.
"Hmm, as it happens, those are the scandals I am assured I do the best."
How very well the violet-eyed woman strove to keep that faint quiver from her voice or that hitch from her breath as his fingers skated along the warmth of her skin. How very much he desired to explore her further. To see just what she knew. To see if he could prompt her breath to hitch again or her voice to break. To see how she might respond to the touch of his fingers in far more appealing places. Harley turned to face him then, her gaze meeting his own once more, that very look holding nothing but defiance even despite the way her body remained determined to betray her. How quickly she had become his favourite game to play. Yet....had he not promised her dinner? That near subtle surprise upon her features was hardly missed. Matteo so moved to allow his hand to lift from her skin, his palm turned upward to offer to take her hand within his own. That very gesture so seeing him lean across her, closing that gap between them even further. Ah, but how he enjoyed this very game! That move so veritably her own now.
Harley seemed to consider that question for a moment before her hand reached to rest smoothly in his own. The raven-haired woman rose effortlessly then, her movements nothing short of graceful as she stepped around behind that couch in turn, her figure brushing agianst his own in a fashion he could hardly deny was...appealing. Dessert. Hmmm. How well he was assured he could see to that. Harley leaned closer then. The appealing warmth of her frame pressed agianst the toned plains of his own figure before she insisted that the apple had hardly been an apple and dessert was hardl dessert. The simper upon his own lips hardly faltered, Matteo allowing a playful roll of his own eyes before Harley removed her hand from his own. That very act prompted a lift of his own gaze in surprise before she began to move toward the door with the insistence they needed to go to the kitchen for dessert, did they not? Ah,she was the devil this woman!
"Oh, I am coming, Mon Cherie, but I am near tempted to see you try to find the kitchen on your own first."
That warm laughter so easily hummed within his throat then before the Frenchman moved to lean away from the couch, Matteo moving to follow behind Harley and out of that room, the door closed softly behind him. Those memories, for now, concealed just where he was assured they should be.
Those words were offered softly then, Matteo so hardly inclined to subject Harley to attempting to find her way through that mansion, even if he had teased as such. His hand, this time, so effortlessly captured her own in a gentle embrace. The Frenchman leading her back through that stately home and down that staircase before at last reaching that kitchen and living room. The sheer white curtains still shifted within the warm evening breeze, those visitors and guests so at last having left, leaving only the found sound of those evening birds. His hand gently released her own once more, the Frenchman gesturing for her to follow all te same as he stepped into that kitchen. After all, she had asked for dessert had she not? Surely she had not expected anything other then for him to cook, had she?
"I had started a cake earlier- perhaps I shall finish it now, non?"
How readily he nearly anticipated an almost baffled look upon the young woman's features as he crouched to pull a mixing bowl from beneath the bench before resting it atop the polished white marble. A wooden spoon was effortlessly fished from within the drawer beside it to rest within the bowl. Matteo turned toward the refrigerator then, the French Fae extracting a bowl filled with freshly whipped cream from within before placing it upon the bench in turn. That fridge door tapped with his foot to shut it behind him.
"This cream is from my farm here. I made it myself."
That explanation of just where those ingredients came from was, somehow, of distinct importance to the Frenchman. The man was nothing if not passionate about those local ingredients and yet- how very determined he was for Harley to fall for that veritable ruse all the same. Matteo moved to dip a single finger into that bowl of whipped, white cream before lifting it to his lips, his features frowning in consideration of that taste.
"Hmmm, would you like to try it, Mon Cherie?"
How quickly his silver gaze shifted abruptly upward to meet the violet of Harley's own, that very look so offered for the barest of moments before Matteo abruptly disappeared again- only for the Frenchman to appear suddenly before Harley once more. His lips, this time, pressed with a distinct ardency to her own in that tender and yet no less inviting kiss. One that so invited her to taste but all he had on offer tonight....