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 is almost disappointed he doesn't rise to the bait and yet, she can vaguely sense that the man was nearing his limits. If they weren't here, under the guise of husband and wife - she would have pushed him just to see how long it would take him to fall over that veritable edge. It amused her endlessly, the creasing of his brows, the headache she was surely giving him, the utter annoyance at her existence. The very thought merely draws a half smile on her painted lips, before she suddenly reaches for his arm - dragging it away from her waist as she leads him into the alcove. If she were being entirely honest with herself, it was a relief to allow that mask to drop briefly, her seriousness taking hold as she watches Spencer with her arms wrapped about her stomach. The cool wall feels nice against her back, the woman almost always putting off heat, it was rare for her to feel the chill in the air and only once had she ever felt positively frozen. A brief flash of a frozen pond in the middle of the forest touched the recesses of her mind before she brushes it away. That was hardly a fun experience, one she never wanted to repeat again.
It's only after a moment that one warm hand reaches out to gently grasp his, tugging him forward only a step. She's almost surprised he doesn't yank his hand out of her grip, though she releases him only after a moment, explaining vaguely what they had to do to get an invitation. He doesn't respond for a long while, the man sliding a hand onto his hip and the other rubbing at his neck. Vhalla hardly pushes him, she didn't want to pressure him into a decision he didn't want to make and yet, it was completely null. She had already dragged him here with the intention as using him as apart of her plan though it had gone awry almost the moment they walked through those double doors. Vhalla was almost positive she could shield Spencer from the danger if needed, it wasn't like he was well known within this sort of crowd and since it wasn't exactly a small 'party' she had no doubt he would fade from their minds quickly. The use of fake names and the extent at what she had down to cover their tracks so far, would keep them from finding him. Or at least, she hoped.
Vhalla's glacier blue eyes meet his gaze as his deep tenors make an offhanded comment, her brow arching at him, "You could," she shrugged, though it wasn't like he needed an actual response to that statement. It was obvious the way she enunciated her words, Spencer could easily walk through those doors and would never have to even think about this night ever again, unfortunately for Vhal... it wasn't so simple. She couldn't leave without finishing the job. Ivan would never allow it. She represses a sigh, though her eyes do wander from Spencer briefly, noting the gaudy painting hung beyond her companion. She stares at it, her attention drawn away only by the direct way Spencer addresses her. Surprise lights in her eyes as she looks back at him, eyes widening very slightly. They had been formal all night, in pretend and yet, when he used her real last name she almost frowns only realizing a moment later that he didn't actually know her given name. It's a thought that almost makes her laugh. Almost. But she pushes it down. It was hardly the time for amusement, their conversation having turned far more... consequential.
Her hands wrap around her stomach once more, the man gaining her undivided attention as he begins to lay out his conditions. Her face remains neutral, her gaze never once leaving his, even when he finishes. She doesn't move for a long moment, not really a hesitation but simply a mulling of her thoughts. Could he trust her? No, not really. Could he trust her in this moment, this night? Yes, absolutely. It was one thing to leave him stranded across town just so she could be an asshole, it was another to leave him for dead. She had no doubts that Spencer could worm himself out of a sticky situation and yet, she hardly wanted to leave him here. No, she wouldn't abandon him. She would even see him all the way back to his god damn house tonight and even sit in a bush to make sure no one followed them. The woman was entirely aware that she had manipulated him, to get him here and play a part and she never would have done that if she thought he was... expendable.
Her blue gaze falls down onto the extended hand and if Spencer only knew that when she made a deal or even a promise... it was like an oath. She would keep it for life, what he was asking of her perhaps, didn't necessarily mean as much to him as it did to her. Finally, after a long pause, she unfolds her arms, her scarred hand grasping his firmly, a flash of determination filling her features. "I swear on my life that I won't betray you, nor will any harm come to you tonight. As for the target on your back, I can assure you that won't be an issue - I will take care of everything. You have no need to dirty your hands and when this night is over... it will simply feel like a distant nightmare," she assures him, her head tilting to the side very slightly. Vhalla hardly had any notion if she had convinced him and yet, she didn't know if her next words would dig herself a grave or at least give the man some semblance of understanding, "This is... job is not being asked of me, its being demanded of me," she explains slowly, though she wasn't about to tell him what that meant, she would leave him enough hints to piece together enough, "But, this is also a job that I don't mind executing. I'm no knight in shining armor but these people are a disease that needs to be cleansed." She stops, though her hand tightens very briefly, her eyes flashing again with steel.
She would see this through, with or without Spencer... though she preferred the former. "You can trust me. What ever you need me to do to convince you... I'll do it," she says, without breaking eye contact. It was foolish of her to promise such a thing but if it's what needed to be done then she would. It's only then that her eyes dart around the corner, not much is immediately visible to her but she had been keeping track of time. The didn't have much time, "We don't have much time," she breathes, eyes flicking back to him, dropping his hand, "We have about five minutes and we need to look thoroughly... preoccupied," she states, "What's your decision, Spencer?"
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered