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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

how I long to be among the stars69.145.144.152Posted On April 07, 2017 at 9:32 AM by Andras Stein

death incarnate & night triumphant

Andras is so deep in his thoughts her barely registers the padding of feet in his direction, though as they get closer, he closes his eyes as his head is tilted to the stars, entirely ignoring the approaching men, their scent wafting into his nostrils. He was content on disregarding them until their steps slow and then halt altogether. Andras almost, almost stands to walk away; but he’s hopeful they continue along. It isn’t until one set of footsteps begin again to approach him and beginning speaking to him in an entirely familiar language to him. It had been centuries since he had heard the lure of that said language.

Slowly, but surely, Andras tilts his head into a righted position, opening his eyes and turns to look at a vaguely familiar man standing several feet away from him. His mask is cool, calm, entirely void of any emotion as he regards the stranger briefly, before a small simper touches his lips, though that smile doesn’t entirely meet his eyes. Still, he keeps his arms draped across the back of the bench, a leg crossed so casually across the other, as he tilts his head at the fellow faerie. He had yet to meet another faerie since his time in Sacrosanct, though he was bidding his time to form his court again, he eventually would have sought out faeries within the city before long, it just so happened luck was on his side, at least for tonight.

Andras doesn’t have to answer before Dorian, his name suddenly coming back to him in those brief moments, uses his first name a bit hesitantly, questioning if he was truly the same faerie from all those centuries ago. He debates on lying to him, sending the man away with a flick of his hand, yet he’s curious. He had heard rumors that witches had imprisoned the royal family just after he left to defend his own people; that curse had lasted centuries, far longer than any curse he had heard of in his lifetime. He was distinctly surprised witches could summon that sort of power, he would be wary of witches while he was here building his court again. Noted.

As he regards the man before him, he removes his arms from the bench, leaning forward, to rest his elbows on his knees, a hand cupping his chin nonchalantly. A simper still graces his lips as his eyes dart back to the men guarding him, brows raising in question at them before his attention is claimed again by the King. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen an Aragona,” he muses, “The last time I saw you, I was vying for an alliance with your father,” Andras states simply, those memories racing back through his mind, a bit of pain and sorrow threatening to rise in him, but he keeps it well locked away. He had already mourned for his destroyed court, it was pointless to dwell on it now.

“Dorian Aragona, King of Italy,” he states with an easy shrug, “I’m only assuming, I can’t imagine your human of a father has lived this long unless you turned him into a faerie as well,” another shrug as he leans back into his chair, arms folded across his chest. Eyes flicking back to the men standing behind them, that scent of shifter wafting off them, his nose wrinkling a bit in disdain at their smell, “Is that really necessary?” he asks, eternally bored as he drawls out. Still, his hazel eyes flick back to Dorian, noting at how young he still looked after all these centuries. Every immortal aged differently he supposed.

“I heard a rumor that your family pissed off some witches,” he prods, wanting to learn more about the curse, “What did you do?” he asks, a bit of humor coating his lyrics. He pauses for a moment, before Andras stands, drawing himself to his full height, his clothes entirely unrumpled, clean and without a speck of dust on his attire. Even then, he picks an imaginary speck of dirt off himself and flicks it away, as if Andras hadn’t a care in the world, he did, at the very least, indeed have as much time as he wanted. Letting his hands slide into his pockets, he watches the boyish faerie, a thought suddenly racing through his mind. The king of Italy could very well make a good member of his court, he would have the influence of an entire country. Another note he tucks away into his calculating mind. “Perhaps we will take a stroll?” he asks rather than assumes, “There is much I would like to hear as to what happened after I left your castle.”

Andras Steinhello darling



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