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
I don't think I'll make it out alive
Someone enjoyed her control, didn't she? She liked to control their meetings (even when they were on his grounds she would flex), their transactions, their interactions... Yes, she certainly adored her control. So, it was rather a pleasant moment when he was able to shake her game momentarily, breaking out of that dryness she was so accustomed to. Yes, that's right, Spencer wasn't entirely one note. He smirked a little wider at her eye roll before straightening his expression as he did his tie. Yes, he was tense and no, it didn't take much to make him so. That he couldn't argue. However, she would do well to remember that he was established in his market and one didn't get there without being able to manage their affairs. Besides, maybe he wouldn't be so tense if someone wouldn't keep invading his space so casually. At the rate she was going, she would surpass Askaree.
So he was going to have to play what felt like the main role tonight in this grand plan of hers. How... burdensome. Still, despite the falsities they were weaving, it sounded like it would be more the miming of an exaggerated business deal than anything complicated. Business dealings, those were things he was comfortable with. The biggest concern he could have is if things somehow went worst case scenario and he found himself stranded in this viper pit. God forbid the woman on his arm decides to get clever and disappear if things do get heated. If that happens, well, he wasn't sure what he would do if that happened. He would worry about that if it arose, for now focus on the more demanding moments such as trying to figure out what the hell he was to bid on. He was not an artifact man. He did not care much for lost civilisations unless it involved their flora and how they used it (you would absolutely amazed at the creativity of these cultures). Structured masks? Blocks of vaguely shaped stones? Falling apart books? Dull, boring, tedious, useless. What was he supposed to do with that besides waste resources trying to preserve it to, what, flaunt that he had something someone else didn't? Idiotic.
Spencer's attention was pulled toward her again as she stiffened next to him, a little surprised at this change in pace. Usually he was the one stiffening awkwardly while she remained flippant. Apparently she was not fond of that plan or option. Hm, not that he could blame her. It seemed an entirely unpleasant affair. He hummed in an appreciative acknowledgement as she commented he had the "aura of a rich person" though he wasn't entirely sure what that entailed. Maybe it was an underhanded compliment, maybe it was a subtle insult. He would simply accept it at face value which was - he looked like he fit in this room and, at the very least, he wasn't about to get shot right off the start. "I'd rather not." He sighed, not enticed in the least by the thought of having to stay for that. He wasn't the most moral person out there but he still had some. So no, he had a time limit and would have to work quick, which meant fuck the artifacts he knew little to nothing about and time to focus on reading the crowd. That was where his answers were.
Spencer could not have stopped the look of absolute outrage/insult on his face if he tried when she suggested that it would look good in his dining room. "Absolutely not." He hissed with a small sneer. He swung his face away from her, breathing in then out through his nose before looking toward her though his eyes were still slightly narrowed. "I didn't appreciate your little 'visit' to my home, either." He tacked on, tempted to go further but aware this was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. Even if he was burning to bring it up.
Hm, seemed he wouldn't have to worry about an outside factor sending this (rather haphazard) plan awry when he was managing to do it on his own. Good to know that he was still a master of ruining the things. Spencer felt her stiffen entirely beside him, her entire body language and energy changing as the word left his mouth. Ah, this is why he should keep to his short comments. Less of a chance to kick the hornets hiding. He frowned to her smile, eyes searching her face, some part of him storing this information away. Apparently, he had found a very sore place for her, something that could be stored but likely never to see the light of day again. As for prying for more information, no, sometimes it was better left unsaid. He didn't say anything to her answers, mouth still pulled down into a small frown as he processed and mulled over the next course of action.
However, it didn't seem like he needed to worry about devising a plan to distract from that unfortunate moment as she was suddenly completely different, pressed flush against him. The change was sudden enough that the surprise was written brightly across his face, eyes wide and mouth opening with the intention to protest but no voice given to it. His hands even had lifted, hovering half way up her body as though they couldn't decide what to do, especially as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. He was about to look in the direction of her panicked glances when she hissed about paying him even more. Ah, it looked like she was about to have to face the other possibility she didn't want. His hands settled on her hips briefly before one ran a trail up her side to her cup her cheek, tilting her face back a little more. Still, her 'husband' refused to close the distance, thumb tracing over her bottom lip briefly. He leaned down slightly as the source of her panic continued to approach, a faint smirk on his lips. He leaned in to kiss her but stopped before their lips met, the hand on her hip holding her in place against him. "You are the most mercurial relationship I have never been in." He drawled softly, voice low enough that only she could hear it, before finally closing the distance to kiss her hard as the hand on her cheek shifted to the back of her head pull her closer.
She wanted them to play their roles so fine, he would play his. Only because he was fairly certain she would murder him if he didn't. Not because he absolutely certainly didn't want to die in a room filled with obnoxious music, shitty champagne, poor company, and awful taste. It definitely would not be the way he had pictured himself dying, especially since he had a fairly certain idea by now of who and how he would die.
This night was certainly going to go down as one of his weirder ones.