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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
His constant dead panning might have gotten on her nerves if it were anyone else, Vhalla only realizing it was literally who the warlock was. If she were to see any other expression beyond annoyance she might faint in shock! Still, his response to her already flippant answer has the woman's teeth baring into an unnerving smile. It was clear in the tightness of his shoulders, the quirking of an eyebrow how very irritated he was. It was delightful to see him this way! Bringing her hand up to her chest, her fingers brushing her collarbone she throws on, positively the most flattered expression, if it weren't for those sharp blue eyes of her's it would almost seem genuine. "Oh, Spencer darling, I'm touched - you think I'm beautiful," her voice is soft and in an instant she drops her hand, the facade gone in an instant. Eyes rolling in her sockets at him before she leans forward onto the counter, again, successfully invading his space. There was no personal space when it came to Vhal.
Watching his usually bland demeanor sharper into something more as the cogs in his brain work is almost fascinating. She had picked this man for a reason - he cared about money sure, but it seemed like he cared about the product that he would create for his clients. Without a doubt, she could count on him to be at a specified time and place with product that would meet her satisfaction. She had done a fair amount of research on the warlock and though there were others in the city that could create something similar to what he was about to make - she hardly thought she could trust any of them. Discretion my ass. She would be making more work for herself... but Spencer, she knew he wouldn't mention anything. Especially after she offered that hefty sum he was about to ask for.
His statement pulls her out of her mind, Vhalla arching a delicate brow at him. She expected to pay for both of them, perhaps Spencer thought she would attempt a two for one deal. She feigns offensiveness at his assumption about her sleight of hand, "My thievery days have trained me well!" She announces, though her words are laced with sarcasm. Though it wasn't an entirely untrue statement, where she learned such a trait was something she didn't care to think about. Pushing through the scenarios in her head, she announces a meeting time and her sharp eyes hardly miss that flicker of irritation - she might have pushed him and yet, she doesn't for the moment, a healthy annoyance would be good for her plan tonight but she didn't want to push him into a rage. Not that she could actually imagine this man angry, it was simply better to play it safe.
A half smile curls at the corner of her luscious lips, her body leaning forward again onto the counter, her hand places beneath her chin as she bats her eyes at him, "Why wouldn't I want to parade such a handsome man around?" She purrs at him before reaching for that pen and newspaper. Scrawling that address on the paper she stands up and slides it to him. The recognition in his eyes is easy to read though she is rather surprised he doesn't say anything - the man was still thinking he was simply running an errand for her. Oh, how she would enjoy that irritation tonight! Finally, she asks the price and Spencer wastes no time in pulling a pad of paper out and writing an absurd price on it. Squawking a rather un-lady like sound, "Why you heathen!" She hides her own irritation well as she meets his gaze. She didn't have time to haggle with him and truly it was a sizable chunk of money and yet it wouldn't affect her that much. Sighing, she takes another look at the numbers scrawled across the pad. "Fine. You have a deal on one condition," she pauses, her face stony, "You get half the payment before and the rest after I know your product will work the way I want it to." She already knew Spencer's product was far superior to that of anyone else's and yet, she couldn't seem too easy, could she?
She doesn't wait for him to respond as she pushes away from the counter, her body turning on a heel as she heads for the door, "I'll have half of the money delivered to you prior to our meeting - no need to worry, I'll find you. Don't be late," she casts a look over her shoulder, her words practically a threat before she exits the door, the bell ringing overhead as she disappears on the street.
Several Hours Later
It wasn't terribly hard to find his house, the woman going directly there after her meeting with Spencer in the shop. A briefcase thrown onto his dining room table, opened to reveal the neatly bundled hundred dollar bills. Vhalla was nothing but thorough when it came to certain things. When he returned from the shop it would be there for him and she was sure he would have a few choice words for breaking and entering - though she hardly did any breaking. It was impossible to tell how she got in, something she would enjoy later she was sure. Normally, the woman would've left immediately and not invaded the man's space anymore than she already did and yet, she was curious. The plants that littered the house weren't that surprising but they care at which they were taken care of were. Spencer's house was nothing special, tasteful in decoration but there was no presence of him in this house. Did he not have a family? How very... strange. Not that Vhalla had photos in her own flat, her circumstances were probably vastly different than his and yet, it made that nagging curiosity grow. Perhaps she could somehow ask him about it, in an irritating way of course.
The memory of stalking through his house like a burglar drifts in and out of her mind as she stands in a secluded alleyway, the cool air kissing her exposed collarbones and causing a rippling of goosebumps to cover her body. Though she hardly touched anything in his house, she was sure he would make a comment about it at some point tonight. Darkness had fallen well over an hour ago and though she was early, she had no doubt Spencer would be arriving any moment and as if on cue, she sees his familiar figure walk into view as Vhalla walks the length of the alleyway and into the streetlight revealing herself. She was wrapped in a red dress, the fabric clinging to every inch of her body not leaving much to the imagination. The plunging neckline exposed a fair amount of her sternum and yet, it was tasteful on the woman - Vhalla already not being a curvy woman due to the muscles that littered her frame. The long sleeves covered the majority of her scars though a few small ones remained, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for them. The dress was floor length although a slit climbed up her thigh on the right side, giving her much easier access to show the heels that wrapped her feet.
Pausing just in front of Spencer, she glances up at him, her red stained lips pulled into a wicked smile as she pushes her curls back over her shoulder. Vhalla already stood out in a crowd due to her moon white hair and now, wrapped in red silk it made her that much more noticeable. "Well, don't you look dashing," she purrs at him before casually stepping to his side and sliding a silk clad arm into his and tugging him forward to the crowd of wealthy people flowing into a mansion. "I trust you have what I asked for?" She says under her breath, though her smiling face is turned forward, not looking at him. It's only a moment later they are stopped before entering the pristine entrance, two men in black suits staring at them through sunglasses. Who the fuck wore sunglasses at night? "Name?" a rough voice barks out at them and Vhalla wastes no time, "Ashley Johnson and this is my husband David Johnson," she says before tilting her head back, flashing a winning smile at Spencer, "We are very excited to be here, aren't we hunny?" The two men check the guest list before ushering them forward, the warm air wrapping around them as they pushed into a home that seemed more museum like.
"This is the second part I was talking about," she murmurs after they are out of earshot, "You're to be my date tonight."
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered