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
(dear friend it will be alright, please just stay by my side)
(you might think the world is tumbling down, but it's not)
The pale child has gotten herself into more less than ideal situations than she would like to admit. Being a restless child, a child with powers, a child that had always longed for a life that was not the one she lived, Maeve has seen shadowy characters that she never should have approached for help. She has walked down alleys her purple eyes had set on that would have been better for her to stray away from. She has disregarded her own safety for the sake of adventure and discovering beautiful sites. Maeve is not a careful person, she was a reckless child that would no doubt grow to be a rash adult.
Her current predicament only further proving the theory as she excitedly smiles at Mira's arrival.
"Mira!" She chirps as the woman seeks to comfort her. "I wasn't worried at all, I knew you would come," she beams at her with satellite dish eyes that stand out as a vibrant lavender against the pale tone of her voice. Golden hair is a mess atop her hear, she looks dirty and grungy, no doubt smelling like the place she has been locked and tortured in. "The bad guys didn't believe me, but obviously they don't know my friends," she says with such a casual nature. To have as much hope as a child is something truly magical.
A kind of magic that everyone loses eventually.
She nods her head in response to her question. "Yeah, I'm okay," she says shifting uncomfortably for a moment. "They burned me," she says almost angrily, but the pout to her lip says she was hurting and saddened by such an act. This when Mira pulls her hands towards her and Maeve turns violet eyes away in some sort of shame. "I cried," she admits quickly, looking down and letting golden locks fall forward to cover the burn of embarrassment that makes those pale cheeks turn pink. Mira wouldn't have cried. Tobi would not have cried. And Tetra, Maeve know he would not have shed a tear.
She turns then to look up at Mira again with eyes of violet, golden locks falling to the side of her pale face. Her hand is placed inside Mira's, trusting the were girl with every aching beat of her little fae heart. "Okay," she says with a deep breath. Mira would keep her safe, this was what Maeve was sure about more than anything. The pack would protect her. Purple eyes are lost underneath her eyelids as those eyes pull to a close, a promise to Mira, not to look. She listens to her words and a smile lights onto her face. "Okay, " she repeats, but this time her voice is brighter. "I'm going to pretend I'm in your room looking at lava rocks," she says. A specific location if one could say the least.
Maeve opens her eyes only when Mira had led her to safety. What happened she asks, and that is the only cue needs to bury herself into Mira's arms and for the tears to start flowing. "They took me," she sniffles. "They took me and they hurt me," she replies over and over, until she begins to tire herself out with all of what has occurred today playing in her head. "Can we leave now?" She asks, peeling away from her, those eyes still damp with tears that she has now stopped crying. "Please-can we go?"