West

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.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

Black Market

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.

What You'll Find Here

Edge of the Circle

Cull & Pistol

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

Noah's Ark

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

Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford

Syn

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

Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward

i wish time was still, we'd stay right here


Posted on July 01, 2015 by ISOLT GRIFFIN
West

isolt griffin
She knows, is painfully aware in fact, even without verbal affirmation that Damon believes himself irrefutably correct in his convictions as he proclaims them to her. He believes in his words in a manner so many people seemed wont to do, the glimmer in his mesmerizing eyes as he looks upon her instrinsic confirmation that he truly thinks she could yet become the things she had aspired so determinedly to be. He does not know, not yet, how very in its infancy her career as a doctor had been, Isolt having been murdered upon the eve of what would have been her third year of surgical residency. There had been so much yet for her to learn, so much to be seen, to be done and to be improved upon that she had, truly, only just begun. And yet she cannot bring herself to delve the spires of her own sorrow into the inflated sense of hope her companion seems determined to impress upon her. Instead, the fire-crowned woman simply fixes him with a tired, weary, and yet nonetheless beautiful simper to affirm that she has heard him in the manner he wishes. Perhaps he was right in this; he had after all lived a far longer time than anyone she had yet to meet... the limits of his wisdom were hardly hers to fathom.

His next thoughtful suggestion, however, sees the expression melt swiftly from her upturned features for this is, indeed, a matter she has pondered with some tenacity... more so in the recent weeks. "I just... don't think I'm ready to let go yet," she whispers, smiling fleetingly through the soft nodding of her head. "I'm not ready to try and forget... everything. And the only place I feel right and safe, the only place I feel whole... is with you," she coos, allowing the azure pools of her eyes to divert away from his own if only to spare herself the embarrassment should he chide her for this presumed weakness of character.

It is in the tenderness of his caresses and the soft lilt of his voice that Isolt finds the blessed distraction she seeks even in this state of inebriation that admittedly still cradles her. It was a peculiar sensation, his touch. It was calm and it was excitement, relief and anticipation, it thrilled and it soothed her all in the same moment. She would never tire of it. This notion, however, is driven from the palette of her mind by the words that whisper against every part of her, that send a wash of paradoxically chilling heat down the curve of her spine. For a long and quiet moment all Isolt seems capable of doing is meeting his eyes, searching them in near-desperation for she can do naught else in her astonishment. And then, all at once, does a smile pull gloriously across the expanse of her features as she lowers the hand she holds to her waist, drawing her slender frame flush with his own. "There is nothing hopeless about that," she whispers breathlessly before her lips find his in an embrace more passionate that they had before, deeper and slower than they had in the crowded pub. The young woman allows herself to revere him in this manner she had never been able to before, basking in the feel and the taste of him. She is not harried by the presence of others as she had been, there would be no Chaz to shatter the illustrious experience that was kissing this man she held in such high esteem. Of this, too, would she never tire. In fact, only does Isolt pull away a fraction to allow her nose to skate softly against the curve of his own before she whispers to him once again. "Stay with me tonight... please. I don't want you to go."


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