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 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
He could hardly help that near swelling of aggressive rage that coiled like a viper within his very chest. It hardly mattered that the man whom eyed Risques figure so longingly was destined for death in but mere moments. His lover's body was for him alone. Even if Darcy so hardly dared to utter such possessive words to his mate. He was loath to share the perfection of her figure with another. Especially a being so lowly as to exist by the title of 'Breakfast' alone. Darcy's distinct snarl was all but spat across the room. That very sound, at last, seemed to garner some measure of attention from the deluded being within Risques grasp as he drew his eyes away from her luscious figure eye Darcy himself with a renewed look of fear. How very tightly he was wound tonight. Risque had stoked at those flames of desire only to leave them unfulfilled. That sheer and utter want had so twisted itself like barbed wire around his ever-present hunger until Darcy existed as little more then a tightly wound, temperamental being of need in some for or another. Breakfast's mere presence only prompted those claws of hunger to scratch at his throat and yet how that territorialism flared all at once. Darcy never had taken too kindly to other men- of any species. Especially not when they existed within his space, when their eyes roved with want along his mate. He had not clawed his way to the veritable top of Syn, as its dominant male, to have a meal disrespect him. Yet how fascinating Risque seemed to find him in that moment. His lovers' words were near taunting. Calling him out on that jealousy they both knew ran rampant within his very veins. Her insinuation was near ominous as Darcy's tongue flicked over his fangs in contemplation.
"He dun deserve ta look at ya, even if he dun remember it."
How very twisted that sentence was. That possessiveness coiled and wrapped within a compliment all at once as Darcy swallowed any further growl of disdain that threatened to rise within the depths of his throat. It was better, perhaps, to focus upon that impending meal. Darcy so querying whether or not tonight they might....share. They had shared those meals before. Risque, as was her right, taking those first bites and drinking her fill before allowing Darcy the rest of that meal and yet tonight they had been presented another opportunity. That chance to feed...together as true partners. As true mates did. Yet how precarious that very thing was. How entirely inclined to dominance they both were over their meals and yet it was Risque herself who sat atop that proverbial pinnacle of power. To permit Darcy to feed with her, in that same moment, was to allow him to....share that very rank...if only for a moment. The Southern vampire was nothing if not distinctly aware of his lover's fickle nature, of the very notion her mind might yet change within a single moment, that he placed his veritable neck on the line. Any vampire was vulnerable when they fed, after all. If Risque so took....displeasure in his presence while he fed there was little opportunity to defend himself agianst her and yet how that hunger burned at him. That desire to feed with her was far more potent than concern for her shifting moods. Darcy, for now, so continuing to afford his lover that submissive action. The southern vampire doing as she commanded and only as she commanded in taking up that place upon the other side of Breakfasts neck.
The mutterings of that unfortunate victim did little save for coax at the hunger of both vampires all the more. Breakfast's muttering of 'God' was met with Risques simple promise that such a being did not exist here. Not in a place where that Vampiric Queen of The Damned so ruled alone. How very...arousing it was when she spoke like that. Her very dominance alluring in itself. If only Breakfast would not ruin the moment with his whimpering. Darcy's own uttered threat seemed to condemn the human to silence before Risque's melodious lyrics interrupted that silence once more. The Vampiric Queen so contemplating the very notion that it had been far too long since she had seen him rip the spine out of a living being.
"I will do it again for ya."
That very promise was near uttered agianst the heated flesh of that unfortunate victim. Darcy, already aware of the locations of those veins he desired as Breakfast's heart fluttered in anxiety of that death that loomed at either side of him. Risque's fangs were quick to puncture the neck of the man, her venom injected rapidly in turn. Breakfast's final sounds were some combination of pain, pleasure, fear and desperation. Yet, for the first time, Risque so offered that invitation for Darcy in turn as her fangs lifted but momentarily from flesh to utter that command to join her. Oh, how he hardly need be old a second time. Darcy's own fangs nearly svaged that flesh upon impact. His lack of venom resulted in those far more deadly fangs so designed to tear rather than inject. Muscle and sinew were quick to cave beneath his bite. His teeth offer nothing but pain. That bite forced a final scream from their shared victim. Darcy was near oblivious to that sound. Screams were commonplace within these walls. That blood that soaked his teeth and tongue was far more engaging. The Southern vampire was quick to draw mouthful after mouthful of that glorious liquid. Yet, how very aware he remained of his lover all the same. Her every movement, her every sound, her every thirsty mouthful in turn until that human was near drained dry between them and little save the taste of Risques venom began to fill what remained of that blood. Hmmm, it was almost....sweet upon his tongue. That taste was hardly unpleasant. Darcy shifted momentarily to get a better grasp on that body and savour those final few mouthfuls before simply allowing him to fall to the floor between them. Both vampires left relishing that glorious taste and the aftermath of a sated hunger. The heat that overtook his body was...pleasing. Darcy appearing very near alive with that flush of colour to his figure as risque purred her own satisfaction. Her side of Breakfasts neck was far....neater then his own. Darcy having all but semi-decapitated that being.
It was the very notion of that sweetened venom however that struck more potently at the forefront of his mind. Darcy inclined to utter just that as his lover eyed him once more. The sweetness of her venom, it seemed, had never been uttered before. Risque's figure moved with a sensual ease to glide across that floor. Her own figure, unmarked by even a single drop of blood from that feeding seemed to examine that body and her lover both in that moment. Darcy, as always, remained simply...unable to keep his eyes from following her feline-like figure. Risque extended a single finger as she all but prowled to his side, pressing it to the slick blood that coated his neck before allowing it to trail through. Her mere touch was...intoxicating. How quickly his skin responded to it. That flesh all the more sensitive with that life within his veins. How he wanted her in that moment. Needed her. The high from that blood, that brutality was...arousing and yet- those boundaries had returned once more. That invisible line he knew far better then to cross. His hands kept firmly to himself even if he desired to reach for her as she uttered those contemplative words. Her voice was rich and yet soft. Her words alone were so appealing to his ears. Each one of his senses was all the more improved with that meal. A meal they had shared, truly, for the first time. How much that meant. Those bonds between them forged ever tighter.
He had made a mess. How very...fond her words almost sounded. Darcy's own mismatched gaze glanced downwards to eye his bloodied figure, whatever words he had been about to offer were cut short but Risque's own abrupt turn. That near intimate moment between them abruptly ended at her whim as she commanded him to dress himself cleanly. If only because something required his attention downstairs. That clear look of curiosity so momentarily lingered upon his features as Risque insisted she not be kept waiting. The ravishing woman turned then, her two clouded leopards seeming to appear from near nowhere to race to her side before she slipped from the room. Darcy left within that silent space. The scent of blood was still potent. Dress himself. How eager he was to respond to that command and yet how unwilling his mind was to cease to remember the taste of that blood, of sharing that victim together- of that glorious picture she had sent to his phone. Darcy moved to stride back towards his nightstand, the vampire plucking his phone from atop it only to bring up that picture once more. The lingerie clung to her every curve and swell. God she was...fucking glorious. How readily his own hand shifted to brush agianst his groin, to afford himself the barest of strokes. How tempting it was to find that very relief he desired and yet how very....displeased Risque would be were he not in that very...state she had left him so purposefully. A groan so readily left the vampires lips as he turned that screen off, the phone returned to the night stand before he strode toward that bathroom to clean the blood from his figure as she demanded.
It hardly took long for the southern vampire to wipe that blood from himself or choose that outfit from his wardrobe. Risque so having....assisted in that very thing by veritable pairing his outfits all the same with those colour combinations she deemed acceptable. Choosing one of her preselected outfits was so hardly difficult. Those dark jeans, dark shirt and leather jacket were neatly slipped into place before his phone was tucked into his back pocket. Darcy stepped over Breakfast's body with no further concern for the fallen man before he strode from the room, the door locked behind him. It was easy to navigate those halls and make his way to the dance floor, Darcy pressing open that side door only to step into...a casino. The look of surprise upon his features was momentarily clear as his mismatched gaze swept over the room. Those card tables were new.Their stylised black and red finishes were polished to gleam beneath that lowlight. How very impressive they looked. Darcy, in that moment, unable to prevent the grin that found his features. His fangs flashing within the gloom.
"I like dis."
Those very words were uttered to Risque alone as he came to her side. Those words spoken with a clear reverence. How...displeased the majority of those staff members looked at the very idea of losing to him and oh, how they would lose. Not a single one of them had ever shown any true talent for those games the way Darcy himself had. They would be...easy to defeat and yet how decidedly well he liked that idea of crushing them entirely. How readily it fed into his own need for that dominance.
"Tank you, Darlin' "
How readily he remembered those manners, if only for her. Darcy shifted to cross that floor then, the southern cowboy heading for his veritable namesake. That Blackjack table. Much to the horror of Ian. His forced opponent. Lorelai, in her dealers vest, appeared nothing short of thrilled however as she began to shuffle those cards. I googled how to do this. The young blonde vampire very near beamed as she began to deal them out. How quickly Darcy's mind so readily engaged that game. The vampire quickly eyed his own cards, their numbers and suits, along with those Lorelai had dealt for herself before she flipped the first one. Hmmm. A low number. His own cards were fairly low and yet if he had one 2 and lorelai had the other the chance of Ian holding any 2 was reduced. How quickly his mind did those mathematical sums, Darcy summoning for lorelai to deal him another card as Ian did the same. The vampire bartender was very near sweating from the effort of attempting to decide his next move. Darcy's hand brushed over the cards that near perfect score revealed as he tossed them down. Fuck me Ian's cursing rang out much to the amusement of several others within the room as orelai's hands clapped together. Well done Darc!. How much he liked that game. The vampire turned to face his lover then.
"Risque? Do yar wanna play?"
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth