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

your love lifts me up when i am down, when i've hit the ground


Posted on June 20, 2018 by isolt griffin
West

isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been


Isolt's eyes flitter from one benign observation to the next: the murky halo of obscure yellow light that encases the streetlamps overhead, the uneven slabs of the sidewalk's concrete ribbon, the sprawling asphalt serpent as it slithers towards and beyond the speeding Mustang. Never do her eyes linger for too long a moment, never does she allow herself the foolish luxury of a complacent stare. It is almost as if she does not, cannot, permit the realization of her newfound freedom to cast its rosiness over her. Even now does her frail body begin to quake, a gruesome and unforgiving trembling that rattles down to the soft marrow of her bones. It is a shiver that cannot be stymied even by the loving and welcome pressure of Damon's hand upon her own. How long a time had she spent mourning the reality that she would never again know the caress of his hands?

A wince bites its harrowing furrow into the suppleness of Isolt's brow as she is hoisted, albeit gently, from the confines of the automobile and into the divine solitude of Damon's abode. Though her mind reels too wildly for the consideration to find its purchase within her consciousness, she would be unequivocably grateful in retrospect that he had brought her here. It was, perhaps, the only sanctuary left for the redheaded vampire in the aftermath of all that had transpired.

Hardly would she dare object to the intentions of her lover as he moves to relieve her of the few garments that the New Eden had seen fit to leave her with, Isolt's rigid frame growing visibly lax as the warm water of the bath gradually engulfs her, welcoming the vampire queen into its embrace. She had not, until this moment, realized what ungodly chill had befallen her during her time underground; it was a chill most unpleasant even to one who had long ago grown accustomed to the glacial clutches of death. And yet with every caress of Damon's hand, with every warm cascade of water that rippled down her crouched frame did Isolt allow the epiphany of her freedom to wash over every part of her.

The deep azure of Isolt's eyes find those of her fiance, though what miniscule, muted ray of light might have been glimpsed therein succombs once again to the tenebrific darkness with the abject sorrow displayed upon his face. What hell had he endured all these long weeks during her confinement? Surely the suffering of the man before her had been every measure as abominable as her own. The evidence had been writ all over his handsome features, not least in the crimson remnants of the tears that had only just abated. How she ached for him. How she yearned for the certainty that her voice would not fail her should she make an attempt to soothe him with her words, though surely the grisly state of her mouth made this a fool's hope regardless of the purity of her intent. Instead does the vampire queen slowly lift her hands towards the face of her betrothed, droplets of water pattering softly against the glistening tile of the floor, to sweep her thumbs delicately across the planes of his facade in an attempt to clear away the physical testimony to his agony.

Her hands linger upon him for a time, blue eyes yearning to say what she cannot.

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