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
The air was so thick within that room that Darcy was near certain he could have sliced it with a knife. Every being, from Vampire to WerePet seemed to fixate upon Risque and himself. Not one of them dared to move for fear the Vampire Goddess' rge might fall upon them next. Each of them so silently watching Darcy's own fate unfold in those delicate precarious moments. The Southern cowboys' own features remained carefully composed. The vampire giving away little of the discontent that stirred within him. He was rarely this bold. Darcy, tonight, having dared to press his toes over a line he had never before attempted to cross. Risque's game had been a trap from the beginning, the very kind he was often so careful to sidestep out of before it began and yet tonight he had been given little choice. Tonight every one of his options afforded her a metaphorical win not manner what he chose. Darcy so having decided to play that card game as it should be played. After all, to let her win was surely a greater folly then to afford her a loss he had warned her was coming. To let her win was to treat her as a fool. That, to his mind at least, was perhaps the greater sin to commit. The lesser of two evils had been to win that game fairly even if it forced her to lose. A state of being his lover was so rarely, if ever, given to exist within. Darcy's mismatched gaze lingered upon his mate's features. The cowboy diligently searched for some hint as to her mood, her desires, her thoughts and yet her features remained nothing short of frustratingly composed. She gave away nothing save for that single command to follow.
Risque moved with feline grace. Her perfect figure gliding across that silent room with the clear anticipation that Darcy would follow as if led by an invisible leash. That silver coloured chain at his neck felt....heavy tonight. Darcy was nearly distinctly aware of its weight as his tongue brushed across the points of his own fangs. This, perhaps, the single and only hint of...disdain he was given to allow to dance upon his own features as he fell obediently into step behind his lover. Darcy, seemingly, content to walk himself to those very gallows. He had stepped too far out of line. He deserved to be punished. Those very thoughts turned near sharply within his mind in direct contention with that need for self preservation- to find some way to lessen her wrath if he could not avoid it. Yet how little time he had to develop any plan. Perhaps he had won that card game- but Risque had played him for a fool all along. How surely he would learn from this. Risque uttered no words as she led the way to her office. The very room Darcy had anticipated, the notion of that silvered wall he was bound to end up upon prompting the vaguest twitch to his features. It had been.....years since she had punished him like that. Decades since he had been on that wall. He had been...difficult in his early years though hardly rebellious like Tetradore. Darcy, from the earliest moments, had been undyingly loyal to his Mistress in every way. Rather, he had lacked control. His dominance had pressed agianst her own. She had been nothing but swift in reminding him of his place beneath her. That silvered wall was a masterful weapon. One that left him in no doubt of what he had done to displease her. How quickly he had learned. Darcy having becoming almost skilful in avoiding it ever since and yet tonight he had stepped over that line he had done little more than press agianst until now. How he dreaded that wall- even if he....deserved it.
Yes, surely he deserved it, for what he had done. Risque continued then, her silken movement taking her past that wall and toward the rear door of the office. Darcy, for the first time, was given to feel that...surprise linger within him and yet how quickly that very emotion shifted to wariness once more. He had believed she intended to punish him here. Where was she leading him now? How...uneasy that unknown made him feel. Darcy, as always, so striving to offer her little of that discontent as his features remained but carefully neutral. The vampire continuing to follow her obediently- as if that obedience now might lessen her displeasure in him as they made their way down and toward her private garage. How well trained he had become- to accept even his impending death so willingly at her hands. Risque paused at the base of those stairs, her hypnotic gaze so at last returned to him and yet- Darcy was careful to look away. That act nothing short of submissive as he waited obediently for her next command. How he hardly anticipated her movements. She was faster then him- more powerful. Her femanine figure colliding agianst him like a steel vice as he was thrown backwards and into that wall with enough force to crack the foundation beneath with the impact. It was near instinctive, that way in which his own figure coiled, those muscles beneath distinctly ready to fight back. How he loathed being pinned like this. His own dominant nature rallying agianst that very act. A part of him so desiring here and now to challenge her for that very crown. To make her force him and yet, sense, tonight, so managed to permeate that haze of violent aggression his very species was known for. He would not win a physical fight. Not tonight. It would displease her in the extreme. Whatever punishment he was due to face would be dealt ten times over.
That tension seemed to release from his muscles near readily. His figure becoming....relaxed beneath her hold. Submissive in every way as his gaze shifted from her own once more in obedience. Perhaps she intended to test him tonight. To see how far that submission could be pushed. To see how much of him she still controlled. Yet... how quickly his mind had become....distracted by her closeness. Her figure was pressed firmly agianst him.Her every line and curve felt agianst his own tones physique as Darcy dared to take a single breath of air he hardly needed. The cowboy merely....taking in her scent. Tasting it. How he adored having her agianst him. How he wanted only more of it. She had already left him wanting tonight. How very fractured the circuitry of his mind had become. That aggression fading to submission only to twist into...arousal. That pain and pleasure had become intermingled over the years- so much so that he desired both. His very body responding to her presence agianst him as it always had. As he had been trained to do. As if it begged for punishing pleasure. Risque's hand was firm agianst his own, keeping him pinned agianst that wall. The Cowboy so hardly daring to move that free appendage as her grip tightened. Her own free hand reached into her pocket. Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted toward her fingers in an effort to see what she had- before she commanded he close his eyes.
How rarely she demanded this level of....vulnerability from him. Risque, it seemed, seeking to remind him just what she was capable of taking from him tonight. That predator within him was loath to obey and yet....how powerless he was to do anything but offer her what she desired. That very act so limiting his ability to use his own affinities as his gaze fluttered closed. His figure tensed but slightly beneath her once more. Darcy anticipating some blow, perhaps. Those obedient words uttered all the same. The man was rewarded with a single 'good'. The sudden touch of her tongue to the very corner of his lips prompted a minute flinch of surprise before that silken appendage trailed along his cheek, that very act prompting him to...shift ever so slightly beneath her once more. That want for more of her attention so blatantly clear even if his mind hardly understood this game any longer. Darcy so finally unable to guess at her intentions as he often did. 'Open you mouth'. How....rarely uttered a command like that was. Did she mean to take his teeth in place of that fucking lion? It would take weeks for his fangs to grow back. He would be useless to her in that time. Hmmm. That plan seemed unlikely and yet how decidedly more vulnerable this made him then he already was. Darcy near steeled himself for whatever came as his lips obediently parted. The Southern cowboy decidedly loyal to the last.
He had hardly anticipated that cold steel on his tongue. What on earth was it? A horse bit? Had Risque......found a new fetish? That command to close his mouth saw him do just that. The taste was sharp, metallic and.....oddly shaped. She released him suddenly. Her melodious words echoing within that space as she moved and yet Darcy hardly dared step away from that wall, much less open his eyes as she spoke of....cars and trucks. It had been decades since head been so incapable of guessing at her plans as this. Darcy's mind nearly hurriedly attempted to grasp at something as he remained where she had left him. That sudden permission to open his eyes was followed by her assurance he could claim his winnings. Was this some new game? His mismatched gaze fluttered open, Darcy so momentarily allowing his vision to adjust as Risque nodded toward the hulking black truck that rested amongst the plethora of her sports cars designed for speed and efficiency. That simple....surprise prompted the vampire to near choke on the keys he had forgotten were in his mouth, Darcy reaching up to pluck them from his lips, that cactus shaped key-chain so momentarily drawing his gaze.
"Like me boxers."
He held that keychain up. That cactus print Risque had long ago insisted she did not understand had so clearly become a point of amusement between them both. Yet how quickly cactuses were forgotten in favour of that truck. A truck unlike any he had seen before. It was...glorious in every way. Darcy moved like a man near possessed. A singular burst of speed prompting him to arrive at that black vehicle as one hand reached out to stroke its side near...affectionately. It was...divine. Vehicle perfection. The very kind he had always dreamed off. This by far one of the most extravagant gifts his mate had ever presented him with. His fingers brushed over that silver Ram badge at the side. How she had known just what to buy he hardly knew. Perhaps he hardly cared. Darcy was distinctly taken with that truck as he explored every inch of it from the headlights to the wheel rims to that tray at the back. Risque, in that moment, had been very near....forgotten. Darcy circled around that truck once more with a clear fascination before Risque femanine figure so managed to permeate his view. The southern Cowboy at last affording her his gaze once more. Boys and their toys.
"Tank you, Darlin'. Dis is one o da nicest tings ya ever given me. I thought yar was gonna 'it me, not give me a birthday present."
Perhaps it was wiser not to remind her of her previous mood. Darcy reached to hit the key fob then and unlocked the doors, the vampire moving to obediently open that passenger side for Risque- the scent of leather so likely to....soothe any lingering irritation as Darcy hurried to that driver's seat. The Southern cowboy was quick to close the door behind him before placing the key in the ignition. That truck roared to life beneath his hands. The grin upon his lips was near perfectly....boyish in that moment. A look so rarely, if ever, seen upon his features.
"Ain't ya jus love dat purr?"
Risque, he suspected, did not value that engine purr as much as she did her felines and yet Darcy could hardly deny the satisfaction he took from that sound. That truck pulled out of its parking position with smooth perfection as the garage door lifted, Darcy content to guide it out and into the night as the headlights flared to life. Lighting up that road near instantly. That Ram was a...beast of a car. The scent of that leather interior was nothing short of satisfying and yet- Risque seated beside him was perhaps the metaphorical cherry on that cake. God she looked...incredible. Here and now, in this truck, just like he had fantasized for years. Darcy shifted within his seat, his gaze focusing back on that road again.
"Damn but she drives smooth, eh? 'Ow did ya know what ta get?"
The suspension on that truck was flawless, not a single bump in that road felt as Darcy began to drive away from that city and towards the mountains that bordered it. Other cars, panicked by the size of that truck, were quick to change lanes and get out of its way. How very satisfying that was. That second question however prompted Darcy's gaze to shift briefly to his lover once more. That earlier....wariness having all but fles. As if the momentary deadly dance from before had been forgotten. Darcy querying instead just how Risque had managed to shop for a truck when such vehicles were hardly an interest of her own. The Southern cowboy turned off the highway then, the man so clearly having a destination in mind as the truck began to wind its way upward into those mountains. Darcy content to marvel at its handling once more. The vampire eyeing that dashboard with its myriad of settings with clear curiosity before, at last, turning that truck down a singular dark road. One that led to a deserted clearing atop that cliff. The Lookout provided a view of the entire city below with its plethora of lights. The forest around them offered little but the nk darkness in which they so often hunted. Darcy so having driven them to a rather notable....makeout spot. One that was, fortunately, deserted tonight. Darcy shut that engine off then, the vampire leaning forward on the steering wheel then to eye the city below before his gaze turned to Risque once more. The vampire woman eyeing that cityscape near...un-excitedly.
"I dunno why it's supposed ta be good either but dis is where everyone comes for making out an all dat. I've eaten a ton o teenagers up 'ere. It's supposed to be pretty or somethin'"
His shoulders shrugged. Romance, perhaps, was not the Southern man's strongest suit. Beautiful vistas, after all, were hardly.....of importance to either Darcy or Risque. The pair rarely taking any time to admire a scenic moment. Darcy's mismatched gaze continued to linger upon his lover all the same, his features softening ever so slightly at the simple breathtaking.....perfection that she was. His gaze rested upon her with clear....adoration.
"I reckon dat view is jus for yar anyway. I got da only view I need."
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth