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

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


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

and pray I'm never coming back

Posted on February 06, 2019 by Darcy Blackjack
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He can hardly contain that tumultuous inferno of sensation and emotion that seems to ravage him from the inside out. That feel off her body around and against him, that taste off her heated blood so pouring down his throat and bathing his lips and teeth and tongue in its crimson glory is stimulating in the extreme, those distinctly masculine desires meeting those vampiric urges for bloodied violence all at once in a cocktail of sensation and adrenaline that only further fuels his utter possessiveness of her. The way her figure tightens around him, that cry that leaves her lips- is almost too much. Darcy's very control wavering near dangerously in those precarious moments. The man near disastrously close to finding his own finish too soon as he bit down instinctively harder upon her, those wicked fangs delving every deeper and more greedily into her flesh and sinew in a near animalistic utter refusal to release her, that very hold, somehow, bringing him all the closer to his beloved Risque, another part of him sheathed within her, a further closeness in that bloodied dance he all but craved. That conflict of emotion and sensation so pushed to a veritable zenith as he desperately directs that energy and aggression elsewhere in that precarious moment. His hand released its bruising hold upon her only to slam through the wall beside her. Darcy, in that moment and on that high of blood and sexual endorphin utterly oblivious to both the damage done to his hand and the very pain off that action as the wall crumbles all the more around them in a veritable rain of concrete and plaster. That very display of destruction seems to prompt a hiss from Risque in turn, one that all but melds into a near purr of satisfaction at her own realisation off how frayed his control had become. Another groan of pleasure reverberating within his throat as his hips rolled reverently agianst her own with an ever-increasing force as that friction between them so readily began to peak. That wall she had been pressed agianst all but groaning in turn with each powerful drive off his figure into her own.

Yet how capable she was of taking that veritable abuse. Her own vampiric curse assuring her body was more then equipped to take what he had to give. Darcy hardly needing to hold back. Risque meeting each ardent thrust with her own and demanding only more from him. Her body was nothing short of feminine perfection. Each swell and curve crafted from desire itself. Each movement liquid grace upon this earth and how he worshipped her for it. She was beyond all other women, She was his lust, his desire, his want, his need all at once. Her allowing him to take her the ultimate reward. One that only further fueled that utter need to possess her. That primal animalistic desire to own her and keep all others at bay. How readily and eagerly she fed that maddened want within him until he was near drunk on it. How greedily he took it. Her legs only tightened about his waist, affording him even further depth within her as her silvered heel sliced at the flesh off his back. Affording him pleasure and pain all at once until his mind can hardly decide which to feel in that blur of sensation. His flesh near sizzling beneath that touch of silver. That thing line of blood readily welling to the surface to run down his back and yet his rhythm hardly faults. That need unstoppable now. His grip upon her waist and hips so firm it is nothing short of bruising. His teeth as unyielding as his hips in their ardent hold. The pair upon that very brink of tearing one another apart in that bloody furore of that act driven by instinct and desire alone.

How well he knew her body. Like an instrument he never tired of playing. Darcy knowing just when and where and how to press to coax from her those sounds he desired to hear and those utter screams of passion. To afford her both that pleasure and pain she craved so desperately. SO many years together. So many times he had taken her before ensuring he had been near trained to be the perfect lover and yet how this moment so reminds him of their first all those years ago upon that blood-stained battle field within the depths of the SOuth itself. That very meeting near tattooed upon his mind with perfect clarity. How readily she had wavered upon that decision whether or not to allow him to live at all, how daringly he had danced that line between dominance and submission. To yield to her desires without displaying any weakness that might prompt her to eliminate him. The ferocity off her embrace met with his own. Those fledgling emotions that had so eclipsed him with the death off his own Maker only hours before having firmly ensnared about Risque instead. That very act, that very first time he had taken her (or perhaps she had taken him) having forged some desperately potent bond between them. One that had sparked his own obsession. An addiction that had no cure save Risque herself. He had followed her ever since.

The veritable silver talons of her fingers near tore through the flesh off his back. That skin parting beneath her nails in a near obedient yield and yet that pain of that so manages to spear through the pleasure her body affords him. That sound of pain forced from his lips in response and yet he makes no effort to hold back those very sounds he knows she desires to hear. Her near desperately uttered words coaxing that heated growl from him in turn. Darcy incapable of his own words in that moment. She seizes that chain at his neck, that symbol off her ownership, with such fury it is near choking. His teeth slicing only more off her flesh as he refuses still to yield that hold upon her. Those chain links cutting into the bitten wounds off his own neck painfully. Yet how her body tremors agianst him. Fueling him all the more until that single, final command is uttered. Darcy nothing if not obedient to the last. Her hand releases that chain only for her own fangs spear into his neck. That final bite so sending a shudder through his own frame as his hips increase that pace and force a final time to meet her command. His hips shifting again to find that sweet spot she responded to most potently before targeting it near relentlessly. That pleasure rapidly beginning to peak. Each of those sensations near roaring upward in search of that glorious high. His hand releases her a final time only to slip between them and afford her wanting flesh that final caress to assure he pushed her entirely over that edge. That convulsion off her body around his own but seconds later a veritable permission for him to follow her over that proverbial edge.

That very release was nothing short of intense. Those sounds of pleasure falling from his lips and agianst her skin as she moans his own name agianst him. Darcy assured beyond all doubt and with utter irrevocability that such a sound was the most satisfying in all the world. To hear his upon her lips in those moments of release nothing short of perfection as her figure came apart around him. Dary affording her those final, driving thrusts before all but slamming her agianst that wall a final time to take that release within her, holding himself within and agianst her now. Holding her still in an act of dominance that near dangerously rivals her own. How capable he was of rising to be her equal when the moment demand it off him and yet- he is not foolish enough to linger long upon that pedestal. How little air he requires and yet how satisfying it was to breath in those moments. His lungs drinking almost greedily as his fangs at last release their hold upon his lover. Her body near shuddering agianst him again as he extracts himself from her as gently as possible. Those bruising fingers at her waist holding her upright a few moment slonger as she unwinds from him if only to assure she had her balance entirely before he releases her.

His head is quick to tilt once more, his tongue running across the wounds off her neck, coating them in that healing saliva to cease the blood flow he no longer had need for and encourage those wounds to close and heal without scars. He so hardly anticipated the press off her lips to his own wounds, at least, those most recently given ones. Her own tongue sweeping across them in a rare display of....affection perhaps. That sensation oddly soothing. Those wounds readily begun to heal beneath her tongues sweeps, though she makes no move to heal that most significant mark. That a wound she intended to leave, it seemed. One that would take several days if not well over a week to heal. Darcy near instinctively understanding its purpose all the same. That pain one he could put up with for a time, he supposed, if it pleased her. How utterly spent his body was in that aftermath. That fine sheen of sweat a veritable display off how hard they had both worked in those moments and yet even he was not immune to those very chemicals that coursed thickly within his own system now. Those endorphins decidedly potent. That feeling of satisfaction and contentment decidedly rare and yet wholly eclipsing. Her very words prompted him to lean away from those final wounds he worked to close. Those mismatched eyes meeting her own then as those accented words found him.

"If yar let me 'ave 'em next time I'll show ya what else they can do."

One eye lifted ever so slightly. Those words both a tease and a veritable promise. Though whether or not she would permit him that same control and dominance next time remained to be seen. Her moods wholly prone to fickleness and however she felt in the moment. Darcy perhaps equally as flippant in his own right. She reaches suddenly for his right hand then. That distinctly damaged one. That skin all but ripped from his knuckles. Bloodied scrapes adorning that flesh amidst a slight swelling over one joint where the wall had yielded to him and his very bone had taken most of the impact. That soft caress off her tongue an unanticipated and yet pleasant surprise as several off those wounds began to heal anew under that sweet sensation of her tongues caress. How good she was to him. How he relished her attention. Those words she uttered coaxing that lazy simper to his lips as he leant forward to steal a final kiss from her own. Her lips tasting of them both.

"Ya undo me every time, Darlin'. I can't help it."

How true those near whispered words were. Risque knowing better then anyone just how exactly to unravel every fraction off his control. He lent easily beside her then. That rare, lazy simper finds itself upon his lips once more as her fingers reached to trace across his bloodied chest in an idle gesture. This perhaps the closest to cuddling the pair had ever come. Her fingertips, even now, capable of eliciting that response from his figure- as dull and distant though it was in the wake off that all-to recent release. A meal perhaps and fifteen minutes or so off rest he was near assured he could do it again. That lust for her alone never difficult to stoke. His gaze shifts easily to her own then as she utters those possessive words, her fingers trailing up to that heavy silver-coloured chain at his neck. The very chain she had put there well over a century ago. How subtle that act of trailing her fingers along it and yet how readily he understood that veritable....threat all the same. That reminder of where he belonged and to whom he belonged. Risque so seeming to consider something more in those moments before that insistence she would not share him slipped between her lips like a siren song. Something about those lyrics distinctly....final. As if some decision had solidified within her mind. Darcy reaching upward to capture her hand in his own then. Those mismatched eyes still held upon her own as he pressed his lips to the back off her hand now in that age-old gesture.

"There is only you."

How very much shorter she had tugged that tether between them in that moment and yet- how willingly he had stepped into it. His own words a promise. Some greater commitment perhaps forged between them in that moment though as to what defined it remained to be seen. His hand so smoothly released her own then. His gaze following her's to that wall behind them, that hole he had punched through it and the office they had all but destroyed in that moment. Darcy content to utter his insistence he would see it repaired while they slept through the sun. The work of those builders incapable of bothering them in the depths of that slumber. Her honeyed words prompting that chuckle from the depths off his throat before his shoulders raised ina shrug- a gesture he near instantly regretted if only for the pain that lanced through his back with that action so re-opening those claw marks. Darcy inhaling sharply in response.

"Crime of passion. Ya been talkin' of remodlin' anyway."

Had she not spoken off her disdain for her current office layout only a week ago? Darcy very nearly having taken out the offending wall off his own accord. This, surely, an excuse for her to complete those renovations as she desired. She is behind him then, sliding around his figure with a slickness he finds alluring even now and yet....he can tell by the way she walks that her figure is tender, sore, bruised. How oddly...satisfying that was. To know she might feel him yet for the rest of the night. That simper of satisfaction tugging at his lip ever so slightly once more. Her fingers prod at those tears within his flesh, as if admiring her own handiwork upon him. Darcy standing near obediently all the same to allow her to assess her own work before that utterance he had something to show her seemed to pique her curiosity. The vampire wandering from her then to return to his own clothing and fish his phone from within his jeans pocket. Risque settling herself upon that couch as he did. Darcy so momentarily pausing as he turned once more to simply....admire her new position. The mere sight off her now, even despite his exhaustion, nothing short of pleasing. He strode easily to that couch then to offer her his phone with those pictures upon it. The she-devil so momentarily seeming to consider taking that phone before at least reaching for it. That surprise on her features near blatant. A look that only seemed to further at his explanation. Darcy, until now, having tolerated her pets and yet beyond that his own interest had been distinctly limited. That little Lynx, as Risque had called it, the first to ever truly capture his attention.

The notion that little creature was rare however had clearly not occurred to him, surprise touching his own features and yet his own knowledge of felines paled in comparison to his Mistresses. Risque would know, near instantly, the worth of that creature. If she declared it rare then it was sure to be just that. The very notion perhaps only inclining him to the kitten all the more.

"Explains da price then."

That creature was nothing short of expensive even by his own standing of substantial wealth. Those Clouded Leopard kits had been equally so- and he had bought two of those. That little Lynx might yet have to wait until he was paid again or he won several of those high roller games this week. That sudden growl from Risque at the phones lack of responsiveness to her bloodied thumb momentarily prompts him to step forward in an effort to assist before she breaks the damn thing. Her hand wiped suddenly on that couch. Her far cleaner touch earning her the phones responsiveness as she queries why the sudden interest in cats. Darcy shifting then ease himself onto the end of the couch. His entire body near jerking upright from the press off that fabric agianst his torn back. A hiss rising from his throat in response. The man forced to sit up.


The very cuss was all but muttered within that sound before his lips fell back over his fangs once more. Darcy grasping that control firmly again even despite the notion he was assured his back had started to bleed once more. This- was going to be a very long poker game later tonight.Yet, as quickly as that irritation had come it seems to fade near instantly once more. Darcy quick to accept that newfound pain. That sex having been utterly worth it after all.

"I just like da look of it. I like da ears, da way it moves."
It...appealed to him. Even if he hardly knew why that Lynx had so captured his attention when no other feline had amongst that plethora Risque owned had managed to do so. The vampiric woman appeared almost considerate once more before offering that near nonchalant insistence that she would gift the creature to him. That surprise, this time, finding its way to his own features. Gifts from Risque were distinctly rare. A near perverse pleasure settling within him at that very notion he had pleased her enough to earn such favour as this. Wary though he remained of a veritable string that might yet be attached. Risque quick to insist it must be he who trained it, that she would accept no more unruly felines within her home. That distaste flickering across her features. A pang of irritation rose within Darcy himself near instanously at the notion of Teteradore. That son of a bitch was not even here and still he managed to make his darling Risque frown. Yes. Tetradore. It was his fault even now. Always Tetradore. Always his fault. Ruining her mood like that. Little bastard. That very discord for the other man so deeply ingrained within Darcy himself he was near oblivious to the sheer intensity and speed with which that desperately dangerous dislike seized him. Oh how even Risque herself perhaps underestimated how dangerous that hate was and how barely even she managed to force him to contain it. That vampiric man having become eerily still in that moment. His gaze fixated across that room on seemingly nothing. His eyes near having failed to blink for several moments as that utter hatred slithered within his system. That sudden command to impress her seeming to snap him from that very reviere. His gaze blinking- turning suddenly towards her as if nothing had occurred at all.

"You ain't given me a gift since me birthday. That's generous of ya, Darlin. Thank you. I'll see to it dat it's trained- and dat she impresses ya good. If she don't impress ya, you can get rid of her."

How readily he perceived that challenge in her words and how determined he was not to fail at it. His fingers near idly tracing that slick skin off her leg then as he rested beside her a moment. His free hand reaching to take back that offered phone. That hunger readily beginning to claw at him again now. His gaze drifting to the clock on the far wall before he near reluctantly eased himself back onto his feet, one hand running through his hair as he made his way back toward that pile of his own clothing. Darcy crouching to grasp those boxer shorts and jeans and tug them back onto his sated figure, that shirt and belt tossed over his shoulder, his toned chest left bare, his feet stepped back into his boots before he strode back over to that couch before he lent over to steal one final kiss from her lips.

"I got four games tonight, first is in less den an hour. I can't sit at dat table like dis. Ya need anything else before I go make us some money, Darlin? I'll send ya some dinner in on me way out."

d a r c y
and i'll stay alive, just to follow you home