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.
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
Despite her inebriated state, Vhalla was aware of the exhaustion lining the man's words, even noting the lack of weight he had. The man was all but skin and bones, the woman almost already aware that he hadn't left willingly and yet, her mind wouldn't change. Even if his abandonment wasn't intentionally, she was no longer the same woman she had been almost four years ago. The slight innocence that she had was long gone, replaced with a darkness she hadn't been aware she had. The assassin had become even more rough around the edges in those long years, having experienced more than one abandonment - it wasn't just Will that had caused her heart to ache. Though the aching had lasted only briefly, replaced with an absurd amount of anger, it still had changed her. Who was she to think she could get a happy ending while she was a mere slave? It was laughable. Even her 'job' would never allow such things. The thought almost has the witch scoffing, though she doesn't, instead she listens to Will attempt to come up with a reasonable explanation, only to stumble over his words several times as they enter the warehouse and then the loft.
The keys clang loudly on the table as her muddy boots are kicked off, her body falling heavily on the couch. She grips the bottle of alcohol, taking a swig as she watches him with those cool eyes. It seems to take the man a moment to gather his thoughts, his first words a mere statement. 'I didn't leave you, Vhalla,' has the woman snorting this time in a humorless laugh. It was cruelty lining that laugh, the assassin's gaze turning fiery for the briefest of moments before it fades back into that cool gaze. What she doesn't expect is for the man to cross the room in a few long strides, plucking the bottle from her and grasping her scarred hands. She stiffens at the contact, she hadn't let anyone hold her let alone touch her since Laz. Vhalla had never liked to be touched but now, she loathed it. Yet, she doesn't pull away, she allows the man to hold her calloused hand, though she makes no move to return the favor, she simply watches him, that cool gaze hardly wavering, even as he explains his predicament.
It explained a lot of things. One being why he looked so... haggard and two why he had vanished off the face of the earth. Though, even if Vhalla tried to dig up some form of sympathy or forgiveness, she didn't have it in her. The challenges she had faced over the last four years turning her into something different. The assassin had new scars to prove those challenges, something Will would see if she shrugged out of that tattered leather jacket. Somewhere in her she did understand the insanity he was surely feeling, Vhalla had been a prisoner her entire life and yet, she wasn't one to comfort nor could she drum up any feelings to care. His sudden declaration of love has her narrowing her eyes, the woman watching him with a deadened expression for a long time before she pulls her hand away, that very hand reaching for the bottle instead and taking another drink. Not caring for how close he was, she slides out from the couch and moves away from him without a word, turning to lean against the table instead.
Setting the bottle down silently on the table strewn with an assortment of weapons and poisons, she finally pulls off that leather jacket, the itching on her elbow becoming quite unbearable in that moments. Her black t-shirt hides most of it, though there is a wicked scar that peaks out at the base of her neck and new rigid scars that line her arm. She had a matching pair on one of her legs, as if she had gotten in fight with an animal. And in a sense... she had. Though they were old news to her, it would be new news to Will, it wasn't as if she were showing him such scars, she simply felt far to constricted within that leather jacket, the touch of Will's hand bringing up unwanted memories. Reaching back for that bottle, she takes another drink, before folding her arms, the bottle casually hanging from her fingertips. "I stopped loving you a long time ago," she finally breaks the silence, her cool gaze settling heavily on him, "I stopped thinking about you a long time ago too," she tacks on after a moment, knowing full well what her words would do to him and yet, all she could feel was exhaustion climbing. Unfolding her arms, she reaches a hand and drags it down her face, "I'm not the same woman I was four years ago and I don't plan on turning back into a more innocent and weak version of myself," she says in a dead, almost monotone voice. "I don't know why you came back here, did you expect you would return into open arms?" She scoffs before continuing, "For someone who claims to love me, I thought you knew me better than that. Even if it wasn't your fault you left, you were still gone."
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered