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
She wasn't sure what exactly drove her to follow that retreating figure towards the tumultuous ocean, some mixture of boredom with her undeniable curiosity mixed in for good measure. What she cannot deny however is that she is drawn to him and the reasons can be damned for all that she cares though, tired of being shut up in her apartment day after day. All the bars she typically frequented when she needed a distraction had been closed due to the prospective pandemic and Carolina was finding she was decidedly not a homebody. She missed the atmosphere of her job, the liveliness. Tetradore had promised they would rebuild in whatever sense that entailed, but the question of when still lingered in her mind. For a moment however she allowed herself to be caught up in the charged atmosphere of the beach as she sets foot on the cool sand. There is something primal about the calm that settles in the air before the storm breaks, as if the world is holding its breath for what is to come and she revels in it.
It is not long however before she pulls her gaze from the turbulent sea and sky and back to the original focus of her attention. The recognition that alights on his face is a mirror of her own it seems as he calls her name in cool response to her greeting, and that is all that it takes to make any effort she had expended well worth it. Still the smile that follows her comment about his defiant view of the "safer at home" order most of the city had adopted didn't hurt either. Her smile falters slightly however as his words and gaze turn toward the empty space on the horizon that the large ship typically filled. For a moment her brows knitted together slightly as her hazel eyes followed his.
While it hadn't been a home for her in the traditional sense, she felt its loss just as keenly. Tetra had taken a risk hiring her on Raven's word and it had paved the way for a new life upon her return to the city. Her new life had been built in the metal interior of the ship and it was just gone. Her blue-green eyes turn back to him offering a wry smile across her pink lips.
She could sense his trepidation however at her next question though she had expected no less. The southern woman was distinctly lacking when it came to artistic talent, a bane to her mother's existance in the days when that woman had high hopes for her daughters position in the world; though why status was defined by drawing patterns or sewing was beyond her. He seemed to weigh her request in his mind and she allowed him all the time he needed with practiced patience, one hand resting lightly on her hip until he agreed... albeit tentatively. He held out that precious book to her and she took it, running her fingers lightly over the edge of the page reverently. Her blue-green eyes roved that textured paper, tracing the lines which had so deftly captured the wild seascape with more than a little awe. Even though she could not draw her way out of a paper bag she could appreciate the work of those who could. Turning lightly on her feet she didn't take her eyes off the page as she lowered herself to sit next to Alistair, her shoulder nearly brushing his. The book she cradled against her legs carefully, using a hand to swipe the soft waves of her hair behind her ear before she looks back over at him.