Darkness fell over the east, shadowing the city and bringing out the creatures of the night. Mazikeen was one such creature.

She hadn't been in Sacrosanct long, and honestly, hadn't meant to stay... but there was something about the city, with its many faces, that drew her in. The huntress rode a motorcycle, black leather-clad legs gripping the roaring machine as it coursed through the dark streets. Her knives were sheathed, but still pressed against her skin, providing a sense of security to the female... for she'd grown used to the weight of them around her ankles, in her waistband, under her shirt. You couldn't be too careful in a strange new place, and the Dark Hunter was new here, in every sense of the word.

Mazikeen throttled the bike, parking it in the darkest area of the parking lot, securing it in a quickly practiced move before making her way toward the light and noise of Friday night. Before she could grab the handle of the large wooden door, she could smell the bar and feel the music that pulsed from within. While she wasn't necessarily a party girl, she was never-the-less drawn in by the offer of a cold beer and rest from her travels. Who knew, she might even decide to stick around these parts for a while. Stranger things had happened, she supposed.

The roar of sound from too-loud amps and wailing guitars assaulted her ears, but Mazikeen paid them little mind, flashing a smile as she entered the smoke filled room and skirted around drunks and lovers to the well-worn wooden bar. Raising a finger to signal the bartender, she settled onto a barstool, stretching her long legs before crossing them at the ankles, and waited to see what (or who) would come next.