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
I don't think I'll make it out alive
He scowled as she 'corrected' him about the home, clenching his jaw to prevent any outburst about it most certainly not being their home. It wouldn't do them any good to argue that when they're supposed to be some sort of adoring married couple. How tiresome. He would take up the argument that his home was typically perfectly secure from people because no one made it a point to let themselves into his house before. However, now that she had, it seemed he had some gardening to do, adjustments to make, spells to weave.
Hm, this was the first time he had seen panic in her eyes. Perhaps more disturbing was that he silently noted her eyes were quite entrancing when they weren't laced with thinly veiled promises of murder and rage. Hm, something else he would never utter out loud. Still, it was amusing watching her blues slip from holding his gaze or even darting around the room to instead focus so heavily on his lips. He could almost believe she actually wanted this if he didn't know better. He ignores her impatient (and perhaps slightly desperate) tugs on his body, trying to coax (or demand) him to be quick. But no, he was would relish this moment of control. Besides, she wanted a show so here they were.
Honestly, he hadn't been anticipating that she would actually be... decent... and that kissing her may... could possibly... be vaguely... pleasurable. This is a fact he would discount as simply that he hadn't been with anyone in a while and that must be it. He just hadn't realised how long it had been and... something. He certainly wouldn't think about the seconds he needed to compose himself afterwards or even vaguely entertain the idea that he actually enjoyed that just the littlest bit. It still didn't stop him from clearing his throat quietly as he recomposed himself before turning his full attention on the stranger that had approached them. He did happen to note that her lipstick still seemed firmly in place so at least he didn't have to worry about that being smeared. He wasn't sure if he could handle her turning the tables so thoroughly on him if she had had to clean it off his face since he still had no damn clue where the toilets were in this place.
Spencer clasped the offered hand, giving a firm shake before slipping the hand into his pocket, listening as Andrew continued to speak. Spencer's eyebrow quirked slightly at the comment about the lack of rings, a note he filed to harass Vhalla about later. It seemed a very fucking basic detail to overlook when posing as a married couple now that it was pointed out. Maybe she had been hoping they wouldn't be that attentive. "Hm, you know how it is. If the other woman has a bigger rock, you must simply upgrade. Her new one is being resized, I don't make it a point to wear mine." He shrugged, interrupting Andrew with the air of a man that really doesn't understand why this is being brought up at all. When the talk turned to bartering, Spencer tensed, particularly in response to the barely restrained tension storming through her. He was very concerned she wouldn't be able to completely control herself, especially since she was clutching his arm in a death grip. Was he afraid she'd burn the whole building down? Hm, maybe at some point but for now his biggest concern was that she would singe his suit. Maybe it seemed a minor concern in the long run but how the fuck would he explain a sudden burn on his arm where she had been clinging all night?
His response was delayed momentarily, his uncertainty hidden behind that mask he had mastered, as he quickly tried to formulate some appropriate way to navigate this. This was an unfortunate turn in events and one he was going to have to swiftly navigate. However, it could also be an opportunity. She had been hedging on Mr Stanley taking an interest in Spencer, and that it seemed like he had (even if it was just for the woman on his arm) perhaps even quicker than they anticipated considering he had been approached before any of the bidding had started. It would be a risky play though, one that could easily go wrong. Then again, they seemed to be gambling with nothing but high stakes. Well, he usually preferred gambling on safer grounds but that wasn't an option so might as well go all in. Besides, she had said earlier that he had the aura of a rich person, why not the arrogance of one as well?
There were doubts that this was more than a sham marriage? If they couldn't pull off the smitten couple, the ones that were in true love, that was fine. Plenty of people married for the wrong reasons, one of which being the eagerness to possess someone's looks. How many men here in this very building had selected their wives based on their looks? Pathetic. Perhaps made even more obvious when the real couples couldn't seem to muster even a fraction of the affection his fake wife could. Hell, that kiss probably held more affection than those couples had managed in a decade.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?" Spencer mused out loud, looking down at 'Ashley' as his arm slipped free from hers to slowly wrap around her, pulling her closer to him. He reached over with his free hand to tip her face back, then to the right as though admiring her. Then he released her face, the hand slipping back into his pocket as he turned his attention back to Andrew. "Mr Stanley has proved himself a most generous host but, with all due respect, he has nothing here that could entice me to share my wife." Spencer smiled tightly, his arm wrapping possessively around 'Ashley' at his side. Was it drastic? Debateable. Ultimately it would depend on the type of man Mr Stanley was. Spencer had been sure to leave the implication that there was something - he would say someone, but they wouldn't see her that way - Mr Stanley couldn't have. The bastard may be the type to covet what he couldn't have, especially when someone else had it. At the very least, Spencer doubted he would suffer the challenge in silence. Still, she wanted him to get the man's attention. Maybe this was another way to do it that wouldn't cost them a small fortune on some hideous thing.
"Now, Andrew, there must be a bar here, right? This champagne may suit the women but I'm absolutely parched for a real drink." He immediately tacked on without leaving room for a rebuttal, a bit of impatience seeping into his tone, keeping his 'wife' tight to his side as he glanced around the room for a bar. There had to be a bar certainly. He was going to need the drink alone to survive the probably tongue lashing coming up that he failed to cut that line off completely and had even dared to imply she had such delicate drinking habits. Once directed to the area, Spencer thanked Andrew before moving in that direction, keeping his 'wife' close to him. When he was sure Andrew had scampered off to relay his message, he glanced toward the thorn that stuck him here.
"I suppose you were right about getting his attention." He drawled conversationally, shifting his hold so they were arm in arm again. It was rather difficult to walk the other way and also a little too much contact for his liking. "Maybe we can leave before even the appetiser." That was probably a pipe dream but they do say it's important to have dreams.