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 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

Co-owner Tobias Cain
Manager Raven 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

Welcome to my cage, little lover;


Posted on January 22, 2020 by Risque
West


Risque had a night. Idiots were in no short supply but in plenty. In fact, the she-devil was ready for that night to meet its end after her final meeting of the night came to pass, she had decided to sever ties with, in more ways than one. He had tried to pull a fast on her, tried to prolong a contract that should have taken no more than a month was quickly prolonging to two, not to mention the moment those words were uttered were the final ones that sealed his fate. He thought he could manipulate her. To utter her enemy was a fool's errand. "Cade approached me." The vampire thought himself to be slick, that oily salesman smile hardly working on her in the slightest. She enjoyed his screams for but a moment, but even his death hardly seemed to bring her any sort of relief, only more irritation. This wouldn't have happened, shouldn't have happened. It certainly wouldn't if that very breach hadn't happened. Or so she told herself. It was easy to focus on that imminent war hovering at the horizon just to taunt her. Every last unfortunate moment could be pinned and blamed upon the night of the incident. She was sure of it. Simply uttering that very name seemed to send her mood to darken. There had been no whispers, no more foolish talk up until that moment, no further attacks on them. The fact that Cade's name had been uttered from one of her employed. The cold, empty cages in the bowels of her club were glaring enough. It was then that she decided to call a particular contact, the man she had self-proclaimed as her 'cat-guy'. Her fingers fluttering over her phone with a dexterity that was surprisingly un-her. She had been holding off on that very call, but tonight she was done waiting, done, hunting down what had been stolen from her. She wasted no time on pleasantries or even introduction, merely the crisp demanding words left her. "I want all of your largest most impressive cats."
"All? But you've never placed an order... so... large. To move them would hardly be.."
"Did I ask you for your opinion? Do not be the second person to irritate me today. I expect details and photos of them all tomorrow with you handing them to me." The threat hardly needed to be uttered, but the dead silence on the other end for a few long moments was telling enough.

"Uh.. oh yes. Risque. Yes of course" But under 24 hours? She hardly cared, only that she wanted it done. The wicked vampire queen would hardly tolerate being let down yet again.

She hummed, tapping her lips with a singular finger. "I want weres too." She added idly, nonchalantly, leaning back into her self-proclaimed throne. Her pristine flesh marred with the blood spatter of the last man. She truly looked forward to the long shower she intended after this, along with a glass of vintage wine, flavoured with fae blood.

"But I don't.." His voice immediately halted by her own.

"Is that an excuse I hear?" She questioned fatally as if, there was a snare lost to it all at once. Excuses did not produce results. He couldn't see her but her face mirrored that very sentiment, her lush lips curling upward into an almost sadistic gleam. The feline beneath her desk shifted anxiously.

"No. Not at all, anything for my best client." But she was asking for the impossible. But there was clearly no reasoning with her. "I might have a guy." How little she cared for his details or strings he had to pull. Surely he had all day to get matters in hand.
"Tomorrow. 2 am." That's all she said, abruptly, before she hung up. Lazy swine. No room open for discussion, no room for objections. That curt but dictated phone call, that she supposed was her own version of retail therapy seemed to be her last act of business for the evening before rising from that desk, but not without sending a hasty text for clean up. After all, disappointment number 1, still remained lifeless and smeared across her office floor.

She had ordered that bottle of wine to be sent up to be blended in near equal parts in a decanter. She stripped down to her flawless skin, discarding those sullied clothes and undergarments into the trash with little more than a scoff. The silver embellished heels at the very least made it out alive. The room was quiet, except for the stirring of felines, peering out from the places amongst the room, their eyes watched their queen with inherent interest, as they could feel her power and its hypnotic lure. It spilt out into that room with no effort, it throbbed like it possessed its own heartbeat taking up every last corner and crevice of that room. Those felines were all too familiar to that sensation, mesmerized by it either. In fact, her room cats seemed to relish in it, as though pressing into it with acknowledgement. Naked in that warm dimly lit lavish room, those cats all but trotted over to her, brushing against her exposed flesh upon her slender legs in greeting, their sounds of welcome varied and yet distinct to them and their species.

Risque relished in the feel of fur against her flesh, as she uttered something innocuous to them in french. Of course, those cats had no idea what she uttered to them, those words almost fond and yet how quick they could have changed. She poured herself a glass, smoothly bringing the long-stemmed crystal wine glass to her lips, luxuriating in the flavours that swirled upon her tongue, as though each year told another story, a new layer upon layer that revealed itself to her. Ah, this one was rare. She decided she liked it as she prepared her shower, allowing the water to run and heat to that desired near scalding temperature. Hot. She waited only so long for the steam to swirl around, billowing wildly in that large bathroom. How she disliked getting wet, so long as it wasn't planned. That oversized glass shower, now that was a different thing entirely. She had full control of all its many features and nozzles, steam, pressure, heat. Washing clean from the dirt and grime of the day, now that had felt luxurious. The stresses of that day seemed to swirl down that very drain.

This time of night so close to dawn seemed sooth her. She went through her complicated routine. Shampoo, Conditioner. Body wash, exfoliation, hair removal and any other brew she had perched upon that tiled shelf. There was not a single hair out of place on her. Her toes matched the colour of her freshly done fingernails. She enjoyed the scents that mingled complimentary together, enough to breath them in. She could have purred from that sensation, that satisfactory sound uttered all the same as she gave in to those very sensations of her body's heat rising. Only once she was through, she left that shower, closing the glass door behind her, dripping wet.

Risque wrapped a black oversized towel around her body, she waited, every time until she was satisfied with being dry. She hated wet fabric upon her body. She took her time, lazily going through her strict routine of creams and hair tinctures before she took on that arduous task of drying her hair. If it were not so late, she would have ordered someone else to do it, but she had enough of her employees today. Risque, tonight, hardly wished for anyone's company, save for that of her cats. Darcy, who had been shuffling about just outside the door had been even included to that very shortlist tonight. After all, they had fallen into a routine of sorts, most of those quirks she found irritated her were corrected immediately. How eager he was to please her, to make sure that this relatively new arrangement to work. As if to ensure that she didn't chase him away back to his own suites like a lioness defending her territory. Still, it felt odd in some moments sharing that space and yet, it managed to work. Sharing! The woman never shared anything and yet here she was. Rarely anyone was allowed to enter this fortress, with the exception of her felines. That part of her in which had claimed him liked knowing exactly where he was, keeping him on a short leash. That part enjoyed that she could toy with him when she desired it. There were certain perks to that as well. How those ever-fickle appetites were more easily acted upon. She brushed the long silken mane, that towel remaining in place just above her chest and under her arms. Her body was still hot from that scalding water even still, as though her veins refused to relinquish it just yet. Her wine glass still lingered nearby. One of the clouded leopards remained protectively near by her feet. That was when Darcy entered, at last, that final long-stroke swept through her long locks, her gaze staring deep into her own reflection within the oversized mirror she stood before as she seemed to work out some deep eternal problem from the day's events. She had heard those familiar footfalls earlier, always aware of her lover's presence within that room, even if that act was predatory in nature. The vampire queen distinctly aware of the goings-on within her own territory.

That expensive tincture for that rich midnight locks seemed to tame any rogue hairs, making the cascading obsidian silk hair to gleam as it fell beyond her shoulders. How she relished in that burning feverish sensations, defying the laws of death itself. Darcy's presence hardly needed a sound for her to feel it, to sense it, even in that humidity of the confines of that room as though some cosmic tug prickled across her flesh. It was the sound that escaped him that drew forth that penetrating gaze from herself to peer at him through the mirrors own reflection. Seamlessly he closed that distance between them, his exposed body drew in her notice almost immediately, his muscular form taut that she missed those boxers just yet. Oh, that was certainly a view she gave her positive appraisal too, yet her face ever as unfathomable as a roman sculpture. The woman enjoyed feeling it pressed firmly to her back, his hands settling upon her figure, she placed the brush upon the granite countertop. How quickly he took advantage of her warmth and exposed skin. Those cool kisses meticulously placed, like a planned ardent trail of rose pedals. It was almost as if he craved to place his own scent upon her or savour in that warmth that radiated from her very body. For the moment she seemed tolerant to have relished in that sensation of his presence. He lingered, drawing that tub of cream she had placed before. Could he not tell, that thick substance of that cream should have been telling enough. How little he knew.

"You put it on your face before bed, it's night cream. How you survived this long without it I wonder how your skin has any lustre at all." What was it with men and their complete disregard for a functional skin care program? How they could just go through life without any regard for beauty? She would simply not let that stand any longer, especially within that shared space, his simplistic own blasphemous nighttime regimen enough to bring the devil out in her. Just because they were immortal, flawless in every way. It did not bring to life the skin quite the same. Risque reached for her own jar, opening it, this product helped bring life to the pale pallor of her skin. Despite how irritated she was with the day, there was an almost vulnerability to the closeness of sleep, no matter who the tarnished soul was.

"You put it on a clean face and gently massage it in. Like so. Human's are savages and have adapted methods of slapping, do not fall to their ridiculous methods. They so easily succumb to-" A flash of disgust was quick to appear, fresh upon her features despite it being all but a fleeting thing. Her skin flawless, perhaps even ethereal within the warm dimmed lights. She rose her cream coated fingers to her face before gesturing toward her own face where that intended cream should go in a gentle circular motion in a demonstration. Her pale eyes peered at his features in the mirror before her, falling back down to return that jar back toward the rest of her collection. She turned to face him before that flash of colour seemed to draw her gaze downward to those boxers, It would seem they had distracted her from her own words. Those clashing colours impossible not to notice, not to mention the pattern was... interesting. Why he preferred those above all the others she hardly knew. She wondered if he considered it to possess luck. That fabric could not have been comfortable. Bold choice. "Feeling rowdy, mon vachère? Did they bring you any luck?" She rose a manicured arched brow, his eyes seemed to peer at her through the locks of hair that had grown longer since she had made that passing comment. Her gaze rose to meet his own mismatched gaze. How she enjoyed having something to grab on to other than just that necklace he wore. She gestured for him to do as instructed. He didn't plan on going to sleep without washing his face, did he?


It was the mention of that choice of shows that saw Risque's gaze to shift back to those peculiar boxers. "Hmm. Both cutthroat. She drew her wineglass, perhaps telling of her own night as she drew it to her lips once more, drawing in deep. "Yes... put on the models, I will never understand American fashion. As much as I enjoy watching the pathetic John Snow fail. There is not a soul suited for that throne. They are all foolish, I am certain both shows will end in bloodshed." She was quite certain, Cercei was the only half-decent character in the group. The rest were doomed to fail. How the feline queen could take them all out, she was sure of it. The woman feeling particularly ruthless. She dropped that towel placing it upon the hook to dry before pulling out a hidden drawer. Her kitty pyjamas, those shorts embellished with a cat, that soft fabric felt pleasant upon her body as she put it on. The shirt was simple, normally Risque disliked sleeping in much at all. But tonight it would seem was a themed event. She hardly baulked at her own reflection. The attire perfect considering all the new felines she intended to purchase. Those pj's seemed fit for a celebration of sorts. She eyed Darcy to see how he was making out with that nighttime cream while she quickly returned to the wine, nonchalantly. " You should try the wine." She uttered smoothly, surely they could skip talking about their days for now even though it so deviated from the norm.


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