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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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.
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
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
His curiosity of laundromats would have been amusing enough for a laugh at any other time than now. She couldn't help but goad him with words, even now, as if they hadn't missed a beat in being apart. He started to answer, looking every bit like the smooth arrogant charmer who'd almost gotten punched himself in that park the first time they met. But she managed to stifle that conversation by bringing up the Council computer and him hacking into it. He seemed surprised that she knew about it, running a hand through his hair. It was still such an adorable gesture that she wanted to repeat herself if only to see if his was still as soft as she remembered but she held back. No, this was serious time. He still managed a lopsided grin that made them look oh so kissable before he said that he was getting some air. She couldn't help but snort at that, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, sure, you were. Cause the Council's stifling temperature control is perfect for that." She'd often escaped the building for hours at a time herself just to get into the fresh air and out of that suffocating building.
He seemed amused enough though by his own answer, chuckling even as her own eyes narrowed in scolding. "You could have been discommunicated for that, you know, or even put on the Hunted list. That was dangerous, too dangerous." She tried not to let it show in her voice but even so some of it showed in her eyes: the fear she held for his life. She'd done everything she could to keep him out of danger and keep him safe and yet he kept bringing it on himself. Didn't he know better? She didn't know how to communicate to him how strongly she felt for him without coming off all weak and pathetic. She just knew that she NEEDED him to live, more than anything. This world meant nothing without him in it. Even if she died from this suicide mission, as long as he was safe, it was worth it.
The ksis only confused things more and she knew she took way too much pleasure in it when she should have been reminding him of the dire situation. Yet the feel of him, the very taste of him was enough to make her lose all sense of everything else. He truly was like the most addicting drug to her. In a way, that made him dangerous too. He groaned as if in answer in her mouth and it was all she could do not to rip his shirt where she still clenched it in her fists, drag it off of his delicious body and take them both to the floor, observer be damned. This was what he did to her, this utter lack of control over her own body and urges. She felt like a damn animal around him sometimes. The minute he said those words though, that he missed her, she knew that she needed to do something. She had to put the breaks on this before she completely forgot the danger they were in. His very life depended on it.
When she said what needed to be said, she could see the cogs slowly turning in his head. His own eyes looked almost hazy, like he was still drugged from the kiss too. When he finally spoke, she felt herself internally wince away from the disbelief in his tone. He sounded so hurt, even angry. She would have been more okay with the anger above all else cause anger could keep him alive, but a man with a broken heart was as good as dead. He lifted his hand, running it through his hair again before he spoke. She was surprised to find that he wasn't far off from where she was going with this, telling her that he understood that she wanted to keep him safe. At least she didn't have to work to convince him of that. Then his less understanding side came out, saying that he didn't want to be apart anymore. He said they would only find them again and she chewed on her bottom lip.
Yes, they had found him again, but she already knew what she could do to keep that from happening again. She just knew she couldn't tell Kohl of her plans. His next words made her gasp in shock and disbelief herself. Die together? Now she felt her own anger well up inside, her brows furrowing as her eyes narrowed. Now she did find the strength to bring her hands to his chest, shoving him back with more force than she probably meant to but her heart was reeling from the very idea of him dying. "Die together? Really? You think this is some sappy romance novel where the crossed lovers find everlasting peace and serenity in their own demise? Like we're some fucked up Romeo and Juliet, taking the poison just so we can be together in peace?" Her voice rose in her anger and she didn't care how the woman in the laundromat reacted. She could call the cops for all Kat cared right now. All she could see was red at the idea of him just giving up like that.
"Fuck you, Kohl! We're not going to "die together," cause you're not dying today or any day! I have not done all that I have just for you to give up! You hear me? Man the fuck up cause I'll die a hundred deaths before I let something happen to you. Got it?" She wasn't even aware that in her angry tirade, tears started falling down her cheeks. Just the idea of a world without him in it devastated her to the nth degree. Didn't he get that? Couldn't he see that death was not on her agenda, at least not for him? She all but growled at the end before turning her back on him so she could wipe her eyes and sniffle. She went to the door, pretending to be looking to make sure they weren't being followed. The coast looked clear for now, but for how long? She had to do something. "We're not Romeo and Juliet, Kohl. This isn't some fairy tale. There are only two outcomes to this. Either I WILL kill Viktor, or he's going to kill me. End of story. Nowhere in that script will you find a word about your fate. Know why? Cause you're not involved. Not even the right book. You're in a far off chapter I shouldn't have even read."
She continued to stare out the door as she spoke those soft words, the tears still flowing down her cheeks but as long as he wasn't looking at her, she wasn't worried about stopping them. She didn't want to finish that part, to say that now it was too painful to put the book down, to let him go. She should have just kept running in that park and never looked back. Then he wouldn't be in danger in the first place.