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    The East

    The east side of the city is often considered the heart of Sacrosanct. It's here were the majority of the shopping district can be found, deep in the heart of downtown. It's here that magic thrives, it hums in every stone and can be felt in every breath. Often times, new comers to the city may be come overwhelmed by such sensations but, eventually, it becomes an ever present feeling that's hardly noticed. The streets of the east side are frequented by all species as many companies are housed in the sky scrapers and hole in the wall establishments that line the streets.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Cat's Meow

    owned by Nadya Tetradore
    0 employees

    Cat's Meow

    An older brick building tucked downtown with only a neon sign above the steel door saying Cat's Meow and the drifting of music to let you know of the burlesque within. The inner confines have a lavish feeling of comfort and style. At one end of the building is a large stage for the dancers to entertain with small round tables scattered in front for the customers to sip or dine while watching. Directly across from the stage is a fully stocked bar so you’re never without a view of the entertainment.

    Owner Nadya Tetradore

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    Downtown

    Downtown

    The city has a unique skyline, clashing between modern sky rises and small victorian storefronts. In the heart of downtown, the sleek colored glass buildings reign supreme though their old-world roots can be seen in the most peculiar places from the lamp post styled electric street light to the stone sidewalks. The old world architecture slowly returns the further from downtown you travel, however.

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    Inner Sanctum

    owned by Alexander Macedonia
    2 employees

    Inner Sanctum

    This hidden little cafe is loaded with essentricities and antiques that fill every corner of this remarkable place. The walls are lined with oddities from every corner of the world. Beyond the intriging decor, this place is known for it's delectable coffees and it's exquisite latte art.

    Owner Alexander Macedonia

    Barista Alexis Wilde
    Barista Calliel Alosi

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    Red on the Water

    owned by Isolt Griffin
    2 employees

    Red on the Water

    Nestled in a pleasant alcove that is but a stone?s throw away from the dazzling labyrinth of downtown, Red on the Water is a spectacle in its own right. Renovated in the style of a classic Irish pub with a dash of modern flare befitting the city that boasts it, this up-and-coming venue is the perfect place to snag an impeccably prepared home-cooked meal and enjoy the city?s most impressive collection of brews from Ireland and beyond. You and your guests are sure to be mesmerized and invigorated by the energetic offerings of the live Celtic band to be found here every weekend.

    Owner Isolt Griffin

    Co-Owner Damon Marcello
    Waitress Yumi Chizue

i came here so you would come for me108.93.10.156Posted On December 07, 2016 at 5:30 PM by isolt griffin

isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been


She was a shell, a disgarded husk left vacant and bereft all that she had been before.

She was a ghost.

A ghost that haunted the bowels of Red on the Water left empty and dark at her own behest; an ambiance to reflect upon her surroundings the cold, desolate void that had taken over within her. She existed solely in her own enforced seclusion save for the frequent appearances made by Damon in a loving and yet heretowith futile attempt to have her emerge from the solitude of their shared office or to coax her to feed, something she had voluntarily neglected for nigh to a week. Her body and her mind would not allow it.

It had been Damon's unfortunate task to impart upon his lover the news of her cherished companion's demise; such an innocent and lighthearted eve that had disappeared, evaporated and fallen away around her as the cooled, windswept ash of a dying ruin. The pieces of life's puzzle had only just begun to fall into place, revealing the splendor of the grander picture only to be obliterated in one fell swoop by fate's well-aimed hatchet. Of all of the loss that Isolt had known in this life and the one that had come before it, this loss had proven far too great a blow... far greater than the strength she possessed to meet the challenge it presented. And so she had collapsed entirely. Isolt had spent what felt like an eternity upon the polished wooden floor of her and Damon's office, crumpled upon herself in a show of fragility hardly characteristic of an immortal, sobbing inconsolably and profusely into the chest of her lover while he could do naught more than hold her. She had wept until it was doubtful that she could have any longer.

The once-vibrant vampire queen found then that not even in the slumber of the undead could she discover some small measure of solace... for then came the tide of memory. It was a peculiarity of those no longer living that, just as they did not sleep in the same manner that they once had, nor too could they dream as they used to. No new visions could her mind prepare for her, no blessed and temporary distraction from the woes of her waking hours. No, only memories of Tetradore and all that they had been through, all that they had survived together. Surprisingly though, it was not the recollections of Risque and her unending wraith against the pair that pulled the barbed wire of sorrow ever tighter against Isolt's ailing heart. Rather was it the times that had followed that stung as barbarically as any blade: the admittedly awkward Christmas dinner Isolt had hosted for Tetradore and his reunited family, the night they had danced so calmly amidst the chaos of the Ark's patrons... and the sunrise he had worked so diligently to gift to her. It was now, all of it, naught more than dust to collect within the farthest corners of a memory that would go on forevermore.

Shadows and dust.

Isolt's footfalls were soft as she seemed to float down one of the pub's darkened corridors in another seemingly-aimless journey to avoid the intensity of stagnation's heft upon her ailing body. It was then that the momentous thud and accompanying shatter of glass captured her wandering attention, bringing her slight frame to a hesitant halt. "Damon?" She calls out, the lilt of her voice now hoarse, her dazzling cerulean eyes rimmed with red as they search for any sign of movement that would betray the source of such a disturbance. When none comes, the wayward vampire approaches the small guest quarters, pausing for a long moment before tentatively easing the door ajar. And when she does... she must place a hand upon the door jam to keep herself upright, a strange glacial sensation working its way down the smooth curvature of her spine, down her limbs and to the very tips of her fingers and toes. "Oh my god," she whispers, choking on the words as they fight to pass the fibrous knot that clenches, eclipsing her throat. This wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Surely the picture of Tetradore's bare frame upon the floor was but her affinity attempting to soothe her sorrows with an illusion of him. Though why he would be naked and appear to her to be in such pain...

It is this thought, this notion, that has Isolt take those first, tentative steps towards the specter of her lost companion. She falls to her knees beside him, hands raised as if to touch him though they pause for an exceptionally long while, perhaps subconsciously hesitant to shatter this illusion her mind and powers have built for her. "Tet". This single word is but all she is capable of offering her ghost before her bottom lip begins to tremble and a crimson line appears at the boundaries of her eyes.



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