West

The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess 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, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

Black Market

Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.

What You'll Find Here

Edge of the Circle

Cull & Pistol

Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.

Bartender Raylin Chike

Noah's Ark

Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. 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. Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade

Owner Aiden Tetradore

Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford

Syn

Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.

Owner Risque Voth

Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward

you're so far from your weapon;


Posted on April 30, 2017 by calliope
West

On, Calliope walks behind the two humans. She sways like a willow tree in a storm and electricity licks at her fingertips. The fabric smokes and burns and falls like ash until the sleeves are nothing more than a fragile web of once-fabric. There's a storm in her now, a rabidness of panic as she steps over stone and asphalt and rotten garbage.

It's easy to ignore them. Kearn and Flora are loud (almost as loud as the sea that rings and screams at her from the distant docks). Calliope is too intent to speak and her hands skim over building after building. There's black char everywhere she touches and all the lights about her head crack and flicker in rebellion of their glass cages.

The slums are alive beneath her touch, cowed before the fallen unicorn queen.

Calliope is still silent as she follows them into the warehouse they call home. Her feet, bare and slender leave barely a trace as she whispers over the dust and ruin. She's a ghost, all leg and deadly grace and black lighting scars. There is enough newness in this body to pause at the stairs.

There's enough of a memory about stairs to make her pause. Shrike was broken and battered at the end of the last set of stairs she climb. And when she takes that first step onto the staircase her lungs are frantic and her eyes glisten with tears.

On her tongue she can taste Shrike's blood and feel the whisper of her sister's soul as it slipped away.
away, away, away.

They are both lost now.

It's not until Kearn speaks again that she falls out of her memories. And when she does she's already standing at the window and tracing her fingers over the spines of the glass. Her fingers leave a trail through the grit and she wonders that she can make snakes with just the touch of her skin.

When she looks at him her eyes are full of shadows and fire and a million different legends. Calliope cannot bring herself to look at Flora when she speaks. "Am I to hunt whatever you are?" There's regret in the thin, hard line of her lips. A part of her cannot imagine slitting his throat when he looks like a lion on his clifftop. Certainly she cannot picture throwing Flora out the window to find her fate against the pavement.

But there's still that part of her that would kill everything just to find her Shrike again.

It's the denial of that part of her (she doesn't want to be so cold again so soon) that has her turning to Flora and moving away from the window. "Show me what you will." She whispers, trailing five long snakes down the glass as she moves away from the view of a place she could never love.

Through it all her horn never leaves her right hand.

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