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 appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
There are monsters outside & they're waitin
there are vultures in line salivatin
though it is dark in the dead of night
I never go down without a fight
"A dark and stormy?" He inquired, the very name of that cocktail prompted his eyebrow to raise almost skeptically, the Were-King wholly failing to place that connection that such a drink seemed particularly fitting for him. After all, if she was capable of crafting a drink he might enjoy, he saw no reason not to indulge her, particularly after that candy flavored one she'd cultivated. Tetradore's head shook ever so slightly as he dismissed the idea for now, "Maybe later, I have other plans for tonight." He commented, plans that near required he not fall sway to the intoxicating lure of those strong liquors. After all, though it was nearly evening here, those activities he had so meticulously set up halfway across the world were only just experiencing the genteel touch of the sun's rays. The very notion that tonight might somehow be different from that routine they'd all fallen into, however, seemed to prompt a notable glimpse of intrigue to her fair features, one he almost enjoyed seeing. He watched as she leaned into the bar separating them, the very action emphasizing her cleavage, momentarily drawing the vibrancy of his own irises. Oh how well he knew the body that lay under that thin fabric - one he had come to relish in the closeness of. Tonight, Tetradore had every intention of enjoying those curves, in getting entangled in her feminine figure. Tonight.
For the moment, his thoughts were drawn from the glorious sensation of the flesh by the prospect of 'ass-kicking shoes'. The very declaration of that footwear caused his eyebrow to raise ever so slightly as he inquired after those boots. That almost cryptic promise hardly reduced the man's inquiry and yet, he said nothing of it as he pushed that matte black gift bag across the bar and towards her. The very action seemed to immediately ensnare the woman's attention as that glimpse of sheer surprise overtook the she-wolf's fair features. Was it truly that peculiar that he might see fit to show his affections in a far more....monetary and material manner? A glimpse of inquisitiveness crossed Tetradore's features though he said little of such thoughts as she reached for the fanned out tissue paper, removing each piece with far more control than even the Were-King desired she have. He watched as she reached into the depths of the bag, her fingers clearly brushing against the supple leather materials as Mira pulled from the depths of bag the leather jacket he had purchased just for her. A ghost of a simper toyed with the corners of his lips as Tetradore watched that excitement glisten within the depths of her golden-hued irises. The Were-King remained silent as the woman slid her arms within the jacket, pulling it over her petite shoulders. The fit was exactly as he anticipated it to be, hugging her curves with an undeniable allure whilst still allowing her to move within the fresh crisp leather. It was exactly the sort of thing that he desired to see her in to offer some protection in the event something disastrous should befall them in that foreign country, albeit minimal protection at that.
For the moment, Tetradore pushed such pessimistic thoughts from the forefront of his mind. His emerald eyes observed the manner at which her fingers ran down the front panels of the jacket. Her declaration that he had good taste prompted the Alpha's shoulders to shrug in an altogether dismissive manner. Fashion, admittedly, had never been his thing, that jacket merely the feminine alternative of the one he presently wore, the accents altogether similar upon their shoulders. Nevertheless, a small simper persisted upon his features as Mira perked up, that very change, although subtle, was altogether noticeable for the Were-King, if only for the hours he'd spent within her company. Tetradore's gaze lingered upon her as Mira slid around the bar, hiding that now empty bag and offering a few words to the bartenders that still remained within her wake. His own hands remained nestled within the depths of his pockets as she maneuvered towards his side, her enticing figure brushing tantalizingly against his own. Oh how coyly they so seemed to play that very game of attraction. Though neither had voiced any words of true affection, Tetradore could hardly deny how much she had unexpectedly begun to linger upon his thoughts, bringing him comfort and strength in ways he had well begun to suspect she had the slightest notion of. Apart of the feline was vaguely aware of that simple action to spread her scent upon him, to claim what was hers in a way that Tetradore himself so frequently did. His attention, however, was entirely drawn to that inquiry upon her lips though the Alpha saw little reason to reveal the depths of all he had concocted just yet.
An almost mischevious glimpse crossed his features, those vibrant emerald eyes near sparkling in the wake of Mira's observation of that very fact and slowly, Tetradore shook his head. "Nope." He informed her with a singular word as he gestured with a small bob of his head that she should instead follow him. His own trek through the Ark was all but purposeful as the Were-King led her towards the kitchens. The kitchen was already brimming with delectable scents, the chefs preparing for the evening to come and the orders that would inevitably be placed. Even so, an almost inconspicuous paper bag remained settled on the very edge of the counter - waiting for the Were-King. Hardly a word was exchanged between Tetradore and the Ark's head chef beyond an altogether brief word of appreciation and recognition. With bag in hand, Tetradore led Mira down those familiar halls and towards the garage - his own little sanctuary within the hulking cargo ship. The Alpha paused at the door, turning to face her only to announce that he required her to close her eyes. The very request prompted a look he very much anticipated and yet, Tetradore was all too keen to insist upon it. Her suspicious question, however, prompted little more than a mock look of innocence from the Alpha before she gave in with the insistence that he keep her from crashing into anything.
Effortlessly, the man reached up to take her hand, only for his nose to wrinkle ever so slightly at that shortening of his last name. "Let's....not use that one." He informed her, that very butchering one Risque was inclined to utilize when goading him. His mistress' choice of names were ones he never wished to hear from the lips of the woman he found himself unexpectedly falling for. Nevertheless, Tetradore hardly paused, determined to keep such thoughts from ruining his mood and his evening. He was careful as he led her into the large garage, the showroom floor strikingly clean and kept free of any obstacles. This the singular room in the Ark that Tetradore was decidedly meticulous on the upkeep of. Easily, the man led her towards those motorcycles, only to release her hand and replace that sack lunch for the keys of his newly acquired Ducati. The Were-King shifted to move behind Mira, his hand settling upon her hip as he pulled her against the firm plains of his muscular chest. The keys clinked ever so slightly against one another and yet, Tetradore hardly paid it any heed as his lips pressed sweetly against her neck, the scruff of his facial hair tickling her skin in the wake of those tender kisses. How he relished in that sound as her breath so abruptly shifted in the wake of his attention and yet, he hardly ceased that upward movement to her ear. His free hand pressed those keys into her palm as he declared she now had the freedom to open her eyes.
The last thing Tetradore had anticipated, however, was that gentle admittance that, now, she was much more enjoying her place within his arms than to satisfy that curiosity that had once afflicted her. The very notion prompted a soft rumbling chuckle upon his lips as the Were-King rolled his eyes. Oh but how well he knew her! Even she could not leave that mystery he'd presented to her unsolved! He watched as her gaze fluttered open, her golden irises settling upon the bright red of that Ducatti. Tetradore was all but silent as that singular word escaped her lips, that surprise echoing within the depths of that syllable. Her quandary, however, prompted a small shrug upon his shoulders as Tetradore turned that question back upon her. "I don't know, why is there a Ducati with my Ninja?" Mira turned within his grasp, drawing his emerald eyes downwards as she glanced up at him with near noticeable excitement. The very notion of her driving circles around him, however, was enough to prompt that chuckle on his lips again as his eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "I'd like to see you try." He commented in some vague challenge. After all, those vehicles had been his life for as long as he could remember - his only escape from a world too cruel to fathom. In the privacy of that garage, Tetradore hardly made a move to shift out of her grasp as Mira's arms reached up to wrap around his neck. Admittedly, the truth of his plans tonight would fail to really prepare her for the trek across those Chinese highways and so, for now, he saw little reason to deny her that which she so clearly craved.
"I have found one of the most scenic bits of open road in the world just wait for us....but...you need your own bike to really enjoy it." He nodded ever so slightly towards those motorcycles sitting in front of them. "Grab your helmet and, that bag from the kitchen. Come on, it's waiting for us." Tetradore continued, his grip upon her dropping as he led her towards those motorcycles. His own jet black helmet was plucked from the counter that ran along the wall behind those vehicles only for the Were-King to throw his leg over his own Ninja. His helmet was placed ever so neatly within his lap only for his emerald eyes to follow Mira as she retrieved the items he'd asked of her. It was only when she was settled on the Ducatti at his side that his hand reached out for her. "Give me your hand." He requested, hardly bothering to inform her that the highway he so wished to take her to was most certainly not on the continent they presently stood on.