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.
Bartender Raylin Chike
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
A soft snort left the newly turned Hunter's nose at the sheer idea of utilizing those fines as napkins. If what the rumors of the Ark were to be believed, it was the exact sort of place that might do just that. He could hardly help the small simper upon his features at the notion of it though, for now, he hardly pressed her on the topic of the Ark, her employer's fines, or whatever happened to those pages he had delivered. Alistair, after all, was hardly oblivious of the sarcastic facade she so employed at the very mention of the Ark, as if it's absence still bothered her enough to retreat behind her own internal walls. It was easy to let that conversation shift to their shared living space. He was, admittedly, surprised to find just how close the pair had lived to one another without their paths intersecting and yet, with her explanation, perhaps he shouldn't have been. Alistair, after all, had yet to take up the Hunter mantle, the man instead at least pretending to pick up his once mortal life to the best of his ability. His daily life still largely consisting of being away from his apartment for work before he returned later in the evening to devote himself entirely to those side art projects that crossed his fancy.
It was that very artbook that had seemingly captured Carolina's attention, her inquiry to see it was met with an almost reluctant relinquishing of the treasurer book. He watched, for several moments as Carolina inspected his drawing, though it hardly lasted long before the boy leaned back and into the sand with Carolina at his side. He hardly expected her to want the drawing. After all, it was hardly completed, much less a poor representation of what he was truly capable of. His offer to give it to her was met with a staunch refusal, her reasoning only further served to farmer the entirety of his attention towards her. The depth of her comment had caught the boy of guard and now he regarded her in an almost new light. Alistair watched as Carolina's head tilted to the side, that small simper on her lips hardly went unnoticed. She would have made a lovely portrait, at that very moment. He pushed such thoughts from his mind as his gaze turned towards the ocean in front of him, his eyes tracing the rolling waves. It was easy enough to turn her words against her. She, after all, was the only one who would truly be able to appreciate it in the way it should be. There were several moments of poised silence, his gaze slowly shifting to eye her from his periphery. Vaguely, he was aware of her gaze upon him and yet, eventually, she capitulated. "You're welcome." He uttered softly in response, letting the vibrance of his eyes turn back towards her for a brief moment.
He watched as she flipped further back into the notebook, exploring the depths of those drawings and, to a lesser extent, his mind in turn. A soft breath left his lips, though Alistair remained silent until Carolina inquired after a particular piece she'd found. He shifted to his elbows, glancing over the urbanscape quickly. Effortlessly, he identified the place, Alistair remembering much of the day that had led up to the moment inside the courtyard. His very mention of Yale, however, seemed to intrigue her, much less those degrees under his name. Her glimpse of surprise was hardly new, even if Alistair rarely spoke of his college life. A small smirk crossed his features at her idle comment of those peculiar pairings and briefly, his shoulder lifted in a vague shrug. "Yale was nice....I had some....decent classes and some were a complete waste of my time." It was like that, he was sure, with all degrees and yet that talk of college had Alistair inquiring after her own education.
He watched as she offered him a small simper though even he was aware of that small hint of...something else within the far corners of her features. There was clearly a story there, hidden behind her words but Alistair was not one terribly keen on prying. A soft chuckle left his lips, a rare glimpse of playfulness fluttering upon the man's features. "Carolina, I do think that makes us rivals." He commented lightly, referring to that age old strife between the two universities.