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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

in leaves no step had trodden black101.176.136.166Posted On July 12, 2017 at 12:17 AM by Dorian Aragona



That soft snort that so left his companions nose upon the comment of the veritable excitement his life had once contained was hardly missed, Dorian’s own silver gaze lingering upon the man as Alexander very near seemed to consider that terribly lengthy past and those times he had enjoyed that were, perhaps, far more exciting than the reality he faced now. Dorian so momentarily chastised himself for the comment, the Fae King so hardly having meant to prompt those feelings of discontent, the man merely having gotten perhaps briefly carried away with his own delight in hearing those tales of adventure. It had perhaps been a little insensitive of him and yet Alexander, in truth, hardly seemed so terribly swayed by it, the hunter instead making mention of that gift that readily saw the Monarch’s curiosity peak once more even despite Alexanders reassurance it was not the sort of gift to become excited over. Dorian assured he had near no ability not to be excited in any sense. He followed the other man easily up those stairs and into that quaint and yet homely loft, the warmth of that small space entirely pleasant and yet Dorian so found himself readily distracted by that plethora of books and trinkets and oddities that lined the walls. The Monarch wholly convinced he could spend several hours within this room alone perusing those collections if only his Godfather might allow him and yet it would surely be a matter of great inappropriateness to impose upon a man he had just met in such a fashion. Perhaps, in time and if Alexander found him tolerable he might pose the idea later on. How much he would surely have to tell Sebastian of this evening!

Any further thoughts off his lover were momentarily forgotten then as Alexander turned to place that well-aged coin within his hands, Dorian so marvelling at that silver surface and those roughly made edges that betrayed the coins true age even before that near ancient writing upon its surface drew his attention. It was that query as to just what that writing said however that so seemed to prompt that almost nonchalant response from the elder man. Alexander so casually offering knowledge of his title or at least, the title he had once had. To think, another King had made him coffee! Dorian momentarily abashed that he had allowed a fellow dignitary to perform such a task on his behalf. Although, in truth, the Fae largely suspected he would have been unable to make his own coffee even if he had tried. That soft assurance from the man that he was a king, once, saw Dorian’s own features frown but slightly, his gaze lifted from that gift to the man himself then.

“I do not think one ever truly stops being a King, even without a Kingdom, it is who we are.”
His own shoulders shrugged lightly, though whether Alexander truly agreed with such a thing he hardly knew, Dorian assured all the same that it was very much the truth. ‘King’ after all was as much a title as it was a birth right, one simply did not cease being who they were. Dorian so attempting then to place Alexander within that timeline of history, the Hunter commenting near subtly that he was older then that method of dating itself, Dorian allowing that simper to touch his own lips before affording at least one educated guess as to which Alexander the one before him might truly be. The man clarifying that title but a moment later, that smile readily adorning Dorian’s features once more at that offered information.

“Do you know, my own tutors had me study several works that spoke of you? My teachers desired that I might become a strategist, they felt I possessed an affinity for it and I enjoyed the work. I studied many of those ancient texts the detailed some of history’s grandest battles including your Battle of Hydaspes when you took your fifty thousand or so Eurasian troops against King Porus of India and his sixty thousand men at arms and two hundred war elephants. To use the river as you did and have your General perform that feint attack so your real army might cross further up beneath the cover of a storm was terribly clever, I am assured such a battle so displayed the pinnacle of what could be achieved with sound tactic.”

Those accented words fell easily from his lips, Dorian’s knowledge of several of those ancient battles hardly poor in any sense, indeed the Monarch so relished that opportunity to speak of it. The Fae so marvelling instead not at the causalities and bloodshed caused by rather and the tactics employed. The manner of how things worked, after all, had always been of great interest to the man in every sense, Dorian seating himself in that opposite chair that had held Matteo himself earlier in the evening.

“Ferdinand did not think it appropriate I be afforded such a position within the army however and he so had my Brother given place on that war council instead. I suppose it matters little now.”

He lamented the words softly and yet that moment of discontent hardly lasted. Alexander’s mention of Aristotle as a tutor seeming to intrigue the younger man all over again, Dorian so relishing the idea of learning in any sense as his silver gaze rested upon the Hunter, the silver coin tucked softly within his coat pocket to be kept until the day he should need it.

“A friend of mine, Leonardo, was a great lover of Aristotle. How grand it must have been to learn from such a man as that. As for the pyramids, I should like to see them very much, perhaps I might coax Sebastian into such a trip.”

He mused those last few words then, that look of contemplation so touching his features as he considered whether or not those pyramids could even be seen at night before a soft sound to his right saw the Monarch glance sideways only to see Matteo materialize once more upon the edge of Alexanders bed. Dorian had, in that past half hour, very near forgotten about Matteo entirely, the Frenchman appearing to glance around the room as if having lost something before spying that half-finished drink he had left earlier. This one I enjoy Alexander, what is it? It left a memorable taste. He lifted that cup to his lips once more, savouring that pleasant taste, Dorian merely content to stare at his companion almost aghast, for how long had Matteo known Alexander was a King? For how long had the Frenchman so desired Alexander might wait on him and bring him tea? Then again, was this not the result of a bet the pair had enjoyed? Perhaps some things he might never yet understand.

“Alexander was telling me of the time you met. I never knew of your involvement in Paris, Matteo.”

The Frenchman merely offered him that near impish grin as he placed that finished tea cup down, as if his involvement in the very founding of Paris itself was hardly noteworthy. How neither man so truly seemed to grasp the significance of it he hardly knew and yet for now Dorian hardly choose to comment. The Monarch merely watching with curiosity as Matteo so seemed to produce something from within his hands, handing those strips of leather to Alexander then. A bridle?

I forgot I had this made for you, when I was travelling late last year I spent a little time with a Bedouin Tribe, they were good horseman and they made this by hand. It was too big for any of those ponies they ride about on, but it should fit that elephant you call your horse these days. It has no bit but you can add your own if you see fit, i'd have had them make one for you but you never seem content with anyone’s work other then your own. This counts as your birthday present- considering you did not enjoy the bottled air I brought you from the Swiss Alps the year before. What do you think?


Dorian Aragona




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