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
That truck was unexpected. In those precarious, dangerous moments beforehand the vampire had near forgotten that this very evening was his own birthday. His sharp mind had been fixated only on the game that danced before him. Darcy so eternally seemed to balance up on that proverbial knife's edge. That line between submission and dominance so delicately thin. He anticipated punishment. He had fallen victim to her game in a way he so normally sidestepped with masterful grace and yet he had been ensnared in the impossible trap. That card game had given him no chance of true victory no manner its outcome. The ever adaptable cowboy so merely having chosen that least displeasing option and yet how assured he was she would not forget her loss tonight. Nor would she forget the way his body had tensed in that first moment in which she had thrown him into the wall. It had been instinctive, animalistic and yet for a single potent moment his own dominance had risen with a single potent intent. Darcy, for a mere breath, had near considered challenging his own mate. Rallying agianst her authority and her command in a way he had not done in centuries. He loathed to be pinned, to be held, she had trained him never to allow himself to be in a position of such vulnerability and oh how deeply those instincts ran and yet- she alone could command it from him. She alone could command that submission even if every instinct within him recoiled agianst it. His mind, perhaps, had been his saviour tonight as much as it had near been his undoing. The southern cowboy so seeming to regain that control just in time. His body had fallen slack beneath her. That fight had fled as quickly as it had come. His mismatched gaze had turned from her own in that clear yield. Yet he had still anticipated punishment. A punishment he deserved for even that miniscule act of defiance. He had committed a veritable sin and how he chastised himself for it. She would not forget. Risque forgot nothing.
Perhaps she would merely allow him to dwell on it. To twist and turn and fester within his mind until he drove himself mad with wondering when she would strike that blow of discipline agianst him. He had seen her do such a thing to Tetradore often enough and yet in this she was too unpredictable. Her hand was too good. Her metaphorical cards were unbeatable. That command to close his eyes had been equally unanticipated. That demand so set to destabilise him further, to force even more vulnerability from him and yet how he hardly dared refuse her. He had anticipated her strike then- as she lingered about him, around him, close to him. Her scent was intoxicating. That closeness....that feel of her. How desperately his body craved what she alone could give. He had been left utterly anting only that night passed. That demand for release was potent. Darcy, in that moment, was so unable to deny that way in which his figure seemed to harden at even her mere presence. That fear of punishment so controting and shifting into another beast entirely. Pleasure so often came with pain. Over and over again he had learned that lesson until his body responded to even her closeness. He craved her- in every way. He would take any punishment she had to give if only she might offer him a taste of her. Yet still that punishment did not come. Darcy so instead...rewarded.
For several long moments the vampiric cowboy merely remained where he stood as his eyes adjusted to that blackened gloom. The shape of that equally black truck at last becoming clear as his gaze shifted from the vehicle, to the keys within his hand and back again. The allure of that truck, for now, removed that wariness that had clung to his figure. A rush of vampiric speed saw the cowboy appear beside that hulling vehicle as one had reached out to run along the polished side. It was- magnificent. It had been prepared to simply...convert one of their existing cars for tonight. The vampire so never anticipating his lover would seek to buy him his own truck. Extravagant gifts from Risque were hardly unusual- when the mood was upon her and yet this was something else entirely. Some part of his mind had already seized onto the unpredictability of this gift and yet, for once, those veritable instincts were ignored in favour or circling that gift with a clear admiration. It was exceptional in every way. The sort of truck any country boy for miles would envy the mere sight of.
Risque, in that moment, was very near forgotten in favour of that truck as Darcy expected each and every angle and fitting and wheel and light. It was only his mates precocious positioning of herself directly within his line of sight that seemed to coax that awareness to him once more. Darcy, this time, equally quick to realise his mistake in having allowed that gift to detract, even momentarily, from that adoration he nearly constantly offered his lover. That gratitude was quick to fall from his lips in an effort to soothe an irritation he was sure existed- along with that notion he had expected her to strike him- not reward him. A slow, near predatory smile seemed to find her lips in those moments. That very look prompted Darcy tongue to brush over his own in subtle and yet notable gesture of his own lack of ease. The woman veritably purring towards him then as she asked what made him believe she still would not strike him. How foolishly he had wanted into dangerous territory again. That gift so having lowered his usually sharpened senses for navigating the waters of his beloved. He could allow no more distractions- or in the very least, he could hardly allow them to distract him entirely.
"Yar still can, if yar wish."
That simple, submissive compliance was perhaps the safest bet to be made in the moment- along with a suitable distraction to draw her mind away from those thoughts that never ceased to turn within it. Darcy was quick to reach for the truck door then, opening the passenger side for her before moving to settle himself in the driver's seat. That leather interior and the scent of newness that clung to every fibre of that car was sure to distract her to some level. Risque never could ignore the siren call of leather. That interior was near equally as impressive as the exterior. Darcy, even despite himself, was unable to prevent that genuine grin from tugging at his lips. A real smile perhaps the rarest of expressions for the undead cowboy and one that so precious few other than Risque herself had ever seen. The truck roared to life at the touch of button, the purr of that engine was more akin to a roar. Hot damn. His query on just what Risque thought of that engine was met with the woman's simple assurance that it purred like the creature it was named for, the Hellcat. The look of satisfaction so hardly shifted from Darcy's features as he shifted that truck into drive, piloting it out of the garage of Syn and onto the darkness of the city streets.
It drove so fucking smoothly. That suspension assuring that hardly a bump in the road was felt as the vehicle raced into the darkness. That truck would hardly ever achieve the speed of his mates beloved sportcars and yet- it moved impressively enough. That beast of vehicle was large enough that those other cars scuttled like insects to clear out of their path even without Darcy's otherworldly assistance. The southern vampire, more than once, having simply flung cars from the road when they ceased to clear a suitable path for himself and his Queen. This truck however- they seemed to respect as they hurried to flee before it. Darcy drove confidently onward, a destination already within his mind before his gaze shifted briefly back to his lover beside him- dressed in that promise attire. Christ, even the sight of her alone was enough to prompt that ache to his groin all over again. That anticipation for the very thing he had been promised only seemed to further prompt the vampire to coax that truck onward. His delight over that truck, the sight of his lover in that clothing and the promise of what was to come so seemed to twist and blend into a cacophony of emotion Darcy was near unused to feeling. That arousal was pontent, that utter adoration for his lover equally so and too- amidst it all- a near undeniable, violent desire to protect those things that were his. Even his vampiric scenes seemed...heightened tonight, in the wake of those emotions. Those predatory desires itched at his veins in fashion near primal, instinctive. How difficult it was to force that..control upon himself. Risque, he was certain, would never allow him to have her by the mere road side.
That question on just how she had known what truck to buy served as much as a distraction to himself as it did to sooth the curiosity of his mind. Risque, as always, was singularly purposeful in her response. The woman merely insisting that singular truth- that her taste in all things was flawless. Her ability to define quality was equally so. She had seen enough trucks within the South to know that which she sought. It was equal in power to a porsche- even if it would likely never reach the speed of one.
"No darlin', I aint surprised. Ain't no one got an eye for quality like yar do. It's perfect. I was just thinkin dat- nah, it ain't matter."
And it was perfect. Darcy's head shook softly, cutting short whatever else he had been about to say, dismissing it wordlessly as his foot pressed upon that accelerator to send them out of the city and onto the highway- that truck blending into the inky darkness. He wasn't damn near foolish enough to admit that her answer hadn't been the one he'd expected, then again, perhaps it was entirely what he had expected and yet...until he had heard it, he had so hardly realised it had not been the one he'd wanted her to say. Darcy's features frowned ever so slightly, the vampire near...taken aback by his own thoughts. As if this new set of emotions was....confusing. Perhaps they were. What had he wanted her to say? That she hadn't picked that truck just because it was black and expensive and looked better than anything they'd seen in the South? That she'd picked it because she'd been thinking of...him? Did it even damn matter? She had picked exactly what he had liked anyway. Fucking hell, why did he even damn care about her wording? This was an odd night. Darcy, in that moment, was content to do as he so often did, casting those confusing, conflicting emotions aside as if they ceased to exist. He had no time for such trivial things as that. Not when he had a truck to enjoy and his lover dressed to perfection beside him.
Darcy effortlessly piloted that truck deeper and deeper into the mountains, climbing upward and upward before at last pulling off and onto that lookout point high above the city.The entirety of Sacrosanct lay below them. Its millions of lights like a beacon in the dark and yet picturesque landscapes had never exactly been the Southern vampires thing. Still, he supposed, it provided something to look at beyond the trees of the forest. His utterance of just why he'd stopped that truck here seemed to incite some level of vague amusement in his lover as one perfectly manicured brow arched upwards- the woman querying whether or not he possessed some level of voyeurism he had neglected to tell her about. A shar snort rose within his throat, Darcy's head offered that single shake.
"I ain't come 'ere ta watch a bunch o teenages fumble like fools at each other. I come 'ere cause ain't no one ta 'ear em scream for miles and ain't no one gunna comb all dese trees lookin for bodies. Day easy targets, ain't much of a 'unt but damn day scream good. Some of dem try to save each other like day tink its some kind o'movie. Some of em- day run and leave da other one behind. I kinda like seein 'hose a coward and who aint."
That answer was, perhaps, far more in depth then his lover anticipated and yet there was little Darcy did without reason or cause. The southern cowboy so hardly a fool in any sense. The place was distant, secluded, hidden and yet victims willingly flocked to it. It was a constant source of food, an easy blood supply. Darcy, like the very predator he was, so long go having worked out how to get an easy meal- and entertain himself all at once. For all those predatory skills however- the vampiric man so distinctly lacked any true ability for...romance. The man was seemingly unable to deduce whether that view was 'pretty' or not and yet perhaps that view was not the only reason he had chosen this very spot. Risque, in turn, was quick to insist that view was meaningless to her. Why did people like it so damn much then? Maybe they were looking at it wrong.
"I didn't come 'ere just for dat view, darlin'. I came 'ere cause day wont. None of dem. From Syn. Dem boys is gunna piss off outta da bar ta 'unt now dat we gone and I know ain't none of dem come up 'ere. I ain't 'aving dem see us."
Risque, he suspected, while hardly shy about her body in any fashion, held no desire for any other being from Syn to see her in that lingerie and boots within a truck. Darcy, in turn, held every Darcy to assure this night was a memory all his own. No one from Syn would look for them here, nor accidentally stumble across them. Darcy, for months, had been the only vampire presence on this hill- and how he intended to keep it that way. The Southern Cowboy so having twisted that little make out spot into a veritable haven of privacy by coming where he knew other vampires wouldn't. Even if that view still wasn't totally ideal. What views did women even like? Risque's sudden, shapr suggestion that he should use that mouth for something other than talking so quickly drew his focus back upon her and yet, before he could so much as reach for her- she uttered those rules. Five requests that did not go on beyond tonight. He was to have five? She was offering him more? A thin, undercurrent of wariness turned within him then. RIsque did not give requests for free. Such generosity sure to come with a price. Those ground rules were quick to follow. The vampiric Queen insisted she need be turned on- and thoroughly sated. Had she ever expected anything less? Oh how quickly Darcy had been forced to learn those very lessons all those years ago. His enjoyment of her body so always came at the price of her pleasure. To leave her unsatisfied was a sin. One she was always swift to punish him for even if he could count on only one hand the amount of times he had ever failed to sate her. Each of those veritable crimes having occurred within his early years. His control had been....lacking in those days. Dangerously so. Yet how quickly he had learned to put her pleasure first- each and every time, to move, to touch, to act as she desired. To control himself- even when the want for her eclipsed even his predatory hunger. Those words of agreement to her terms left his lips in that southern drawl.
"Yas yar wish."
Yet would she truly allow him control tonight? Could she? In all their years together that she had been an area in which she had refused to yield even an ounce of her command. How far would she truly let him go? Even the thought of it was...painfully arousing. Risque so effortlessly removed her seatbelt then before settling within that leather chair near expectantly as Darcy removed his own seatbelt. The cabin of that truck was spacious, more than enough room to do as he intended. After all, his own wants were...simple. The mere sight of her entirely arousing and yet how well he intended to follow those ground rules all the same. A night of first, how right she was. That desire to simply jump her was nothing short of potent and yet Darcy had long since progressed beyond that animalistic lack of control. The southern cowboy lent over then, that movement sudden and yet he saw little need to hide his own eagerness in this. His lips were quick to find her own. That taste of her was exquisite. Each and every fibre of his being so suddenly and potently fixating upon Risque alone as he deepened that kiss. How easy it was to let his tongue brush across her fangs, Darcy pressing down just enough to allow the tips of that weaponry to pierce his own tongue. That taste of blood so quickly imbued within that kiss if only to coax her own predatory instincts to the surface. After all, he so hardly intended to be entirely gentle tonight. That recent meal they had shared so assuring that blood still held warmth and taste before he pulled softly away. One hand lifted upward, just enough to turn her chin. Even that act alone, so seemingly simple, held within it the subtlest of demands. Darcy so hardly foolish enough to to plunge headlong into those desires but rather- coax her towards relinquishing that control. His lips were quick to find the sensitive skin of her neck, to draw her mind away from those dominant desires he knew would riot within her. He knew just how to draw that want from her in turn, those kisses sweeping from below her jaw, down that fine curve of her neck and towards her shoulder. Each kiss a veritable act of reverence for the sheer perfection that she was. Darcy so daring to allow the points of his fangs to brush across that flesh with each kiss and yet he so hardly made any effort to bite down, not yet.
His free hand came to rest on her thigh, slipping upward with a smooth assurance before his fingers slipped beneath the hem of that form-fitting shirt, brushing upward, releasing every curve of her figure as he did.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth