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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
Vhalla was far too busy getting her own breathing under control to notice the clearing of Spencer's throat. Under widely different circumstances, she would have watched him to gauge his reaction, to tease him later, except, she didn't have the pleasure to stare at him as her blue eyes drop to the floor briefly to settle herself. Perhaps the enjoyment was... mutual and yet, Vhalla hardly had the desire to bring that topic up. The light blushing of her cheeks remain for a time, something she was partially thankful for given their situation and despised at the same time. Hopefully, her companion was off his game enough to not notice the pink lingering around her neck and face. With scarred fingers wrapping around his bicep, she leans her head gently on his shoulder, feigning goo-goo eyes and a hint of desire up at him. She didn't actually mind that kiss and probably wouldn't mind kissing him - nope. She shut that thought done immediately. She wasn't here to canoodle or lock lips with her supplier of hard to get poisons. No, he was merely here as a tool in her arsenal to finish a job that Ivan needed done.
That was it.
Liar. A voice chanted in her mind which only made her want to take her foot and stab the voice over and over again with her pointed heels. She wouldn't admit it to Spencer but despite the circumstances she was enjoying herself. The petty bantering between them amusing. Still, she pushes away briefly to maybe take out and examine at another time just as Andrew approaches them. She watches, a half smile remaining on her lips as they clasp hands firmly, the lanky henchman introducing himself before he's immediately launching into his questions of marriage. Damn. It was something she overlooked. However, in her defense, it wasn't like she had wedding rings lying around and Ivan had only provided her target this morning. Her mask hardly breaks at the utter attention the stranger had on the two - Vhalla merely glancing up at Spencer just as he responds. Outwardly she isn't phased, but her fingers dig into his arm slightly, a sort of 'I'll remember that for later' squeeze. She plays her part beautifully, her eyes rolling at her darling 'husband' before those blue eyes settle on the man in front of them who still refused to make eye contact with her.
Sure, she wanted to light him up like a fucking Christmas tree but she refrains... even when he inquires about bartering her for the night. Sick bastards. Though her own rage is roiling painfully in her gut, she's aware of Spencer tensing beneath her fingertips, which she now only noticed were squeezing him hard enough to leave a bruise. Relaxing her fingers, she's certain she was holding him hard enough to cut off the blood circulation, she's mildly surprise when Spencer's deep tenors compliment her. They were playing a part but she was still amazed that Spencer even knew how to give a woman a compliment, even if it were false. When he pulls his arm free, she releases him, only to feel his warm arm wrap around her waist and tug her closer, her body pressed against him once more. Blinking in surprise, she's about to tilt her head back when his warm fingers reach up to grip her chin gently, tilting it back and forth. It takes her only a moment to realize he was inspecting her like she was some sort of prized possession, a flash of indignation glowering in her eyes briefly before she offers him a sickly sweet smile. Oh, he would pay for that.
When he releases her face, she has the most childish desire to stomp on his foot, you know, hard enough to break a bone or two. Vhalla refrains, barely. Spencer remains holding her, her body still pressed to his side as she wraps one arm behind his back, the other pressed lightly to his chest as she feels the rumbling of his voice in his chest. His words were so entirely sure of themselves that even Vhal believed him, and she was playing his fake wife for gods sake! Leaning her head back to look up at his surprisingly handsome face, she gives him a hooded look, lips parted in a sultry way that would make bystanders uncomfortable. It was a look that oozed sex and really, she just needed to sell their sham of a marriage to this Andrew person. "She is rather beautiful," he admits almost... mournfully, sounding like a kicked puppy, "Are you sure you won't reconsider? Mr. Stanley will be so disappointed," he doesn't pause for long, already knowing he wouldn't be buying the woman at his arm off him for the night. "Very well, Mr Stanley will be disappointed but I'm sure you can make it up to him in other ways," it sounded almost like a veiled threat and there was a good chance it was. "Ah, yes. Just over there - in the corner," he points, Vhalla's eyes remaining locked on Spencer's face throughout the whole conversation, that look of sultriness never leaving her eyes, though her body is tense against him. "A pleasure to meet you," and with a dip of his head, Andrew is strolling away, already on the hunt for his next victim.
When he leaves, she releases a breath she had been holding, her body going lax, which only makes her press into Spencer more very briefly before she steps away. Eyes dropping away from his features, she allows him to loop their arms once more as he leads them in the direction of the bar. When he speaks, she pauses for a long moment before glaring up at him in distaste, "Champagne?" She questions indignantly, "Now that, is disgusting," she states with a huff, disdain coloring her words. "Of course I'm right, I'm always right," Vhalla announces as they approach the bar, her blue eyes darting up to him to watch his reaction, a half smile tugging at her lips. "Why, aren't you the optimistic Mr. Johnson?" She muses thoughtfully, her eyes scanning towards the conversing Mr. Stanley, the plump man occasionally glancing their way.
"Now, all you need is to spend some big bucks and you'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand," she throws a polite smile at a passing waiter, the man grinning back at the couple before she adjusts her grip on him, releasing her fingers once more, "By the way, you're a terrible kisser," she says airily without looking at him, a complete lie but she couldn't exactly admit that he was now could she? Vhal finally looks up at him, mischievously, her eyes narrowed almost... playfully? Spencer has enough time to respond before the lights suddenly dim, the witch glancing back towards the stage and Andrew himself at a podium announcing that bidding was to begin on the artifacts on the floor. Just to act naturally, she grasps a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter, waiting for Spencer to get his drink. She doesn't touch her's, wanting to keep a clear head, but she does pretend to sip at it while her eyes roam the room, looking for Stanley. She stiffens, realizing he had vanished. Her eyes dart to and fro only to find him making his way to the gilded stairs, a much too young blond woman on his arm.
"Shit," she mutters, reaching for Spencer. Grasping at his sleeve, she tugs him back to her, "We might need to make a plan c," she says quietly, letting Spencer follow her gaze to Stanley, removing that rope to make his way up with his new toy. "Everything I researched said he always stayed for the auction but I think it wasn't for this portion," she whispers quietly, her gaze glancing up at her companion, "We have two options... stay for the second part or figure out a way to get upstairs," she pauses for a long moment, brows furrowing, "There are... rumors he sells rooms to guests for... an hourly charge," she hedges, hoping she hardly needed to go into further detail and that Spencer would pick it up quickly. "What do you think?" She asks, perhaps giving Spencer the first decision to make in their 'relationship'.
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered