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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 shall be telling this with a sigh101.176.136.166Posted On July 24, 2017 at 12:21 AM by Dorian Aragona


This singular meeting was distinctly important to the Frenchman, even if his near nonchalant demeanour hardly seemed to give way to that veritable conclave of emotion that existed beneath. Despite his often outgoing nature, Matteo was a distinctly careful creature with his emotions, those true feeling so concealed beneath a thin veneer of sarcastic humour, sharp wit and often abrasive indifference when the mood should strike him. A façade he knew irritated Dorian endlessly and yet one he knew Alexander could see through as clear as pane glass. The Hunter knew the importance of this meeting, even if Dorian did not and Matteo remained content to allow his son to continue to believe this was a mere meeting of acquaintances rather that his very godfather and the single man whose company Matteo himself had kept for the better part of a thousand or more years. Alexander was a man of sharp judgement and even sharper intuition. The Frenchman valued his companion’s critique of others even if he hardly dared to layer such praise upon him. Alexander’s monumentally swollen ego might never recover from such preening! What the man thought of his son was important even if each was content to pretend otherwise. His silver hued gaze lingered upon the man as he inspected that bridle, Matteo so searching for those subtle hints of pleasure within the man, that near imperceptible grin so assuring him he had achieved his goal in satisfying the age-old Hunters keen sense for craftsmanship. He had known he would, of course, yet it hardly lessened that satisfaction. That brief exchange of those Grecian words between the pair jousted with a good humour and no true sharpness despite the concern that seemed to flutter upon his son’s features and Dorian so at last declared his intention to return home.

He could hardly prevent that protectiveness that seemed to simmer within him. That desire holding a sharp and potent fierceness that he was quick to smother into something that appeared lesser in the least. The Frenchman inquiring simply as to whether Dorian required company to return home. His son brushing him aside with a wave of his hand that was far more dismissive then the boy surely meant it. Matteo so swallowing that pride and so reminding himself that child both needed and deserved that independence. He was nearly six hundred years old! The boy could surely stand without holding his hand now and yet still those memories lingered as sharp and clear as the day Dorian had been born. Matteo surely remembered all those times in which that now King had held his hand. It was with a soft sigh that the man resituated himself within that chair his heir had once occupied, making himself comfortable as he had done a thousand times before only to cut short Alexanders words, knowing well the Hunter might be inclined to tease him for that protectiveness before he so freely admitted to those faults of parenthood. A feeling he knew Alexander in the least would understand well. The hunter had fathered a number of children of the years, Matteo having met but a handful of those mortal beings in passing and yet they had near all passed on now, to his own knowledge, Hunter children so lacking that natural immortality off his own Fae-born son.

Alexanders chuckle so did little to sooth his own concern in that moment, the Hunter assuring him of Dorians ability to defend himself and too- seeking to remind him that his child was rarely alone. The boy’s status, if anything, resulting in near constant guards. Matteo hardly finding himself displeased with the idea. ”I suppose you are right.” He uttered simply enough, those words tainted with that French lilt as his head lay back within that chair, the Fae already assured his son would make it home safely tonight and back to the arms of his lover. Matteo commenting upon Sebastian then and Alexanders attempts in the least to display at least some modicum of acceptance for the vampire, one the Frenchman suspected had far more to do with appeasing his Godson then a true acceptance of his Consort. The Hunter’s words were not wholly unexpected, that simper of sorts playing at Matteo’s own lips then as his fingers tapped at those arm rests. Had he truly expected anything less of the man? Surely not. ”Ah, my friend, I expected nothing less of you and it would be a lie to say I do not think on it often in turn. I see those wounds his teeth leave in my sons flesh, I know the power of Fae blood to the Vampire breed and there was a time when I feared that Sebastian saw merely opportunity and a meal in my son. Yet, I have seen Sebastian in my visions since his birth, even if I spent many years unsure of his role to play and could not understand why I saw this English boy over and over. I know why now and it is largely clear to me- at least in some ways. There is a force greater than either of us at play. Fate demanded their meeting, every road lead to it. There is a reason for it even if neither of us may ever understand.”

Whether either of them had desired it or not Dorian’s fate, from the beginning, had been entwined in Sebastian’s own- for better or worse and yet Matteo so hardly founded he minded Alexanders caution. Indeed he felt almost content to so have Alexanders ever-watchful being so guarding his son in turn. Another sigh left his lips then, his features frowning slightly in those further considerations before he spoke softly once more. Sebastian possesses a Gift of Fate like my own. I have spoken to you of it before, you recall? Those red threads? He held opportunity to force Dorian’s affections for him and he did not, even though he risked rejection, even though I think he desired it more the anything. I know what he is capable off, what any vampire is but…..was it not you whom taught me to respect a man for whom he is? Whom told me deeds speak louder than words? I respect him for his actions that night and I do believe he loves my son.” He knew well how Alexander so hated his lessons to be turned back upon himself and yet in that moment Matteo could so hardly resist. A soft chuckle falling from his lips then, his gaze meeting the Hunters own again. ”I am perhaps a little more…terrifying then I need be towards the lad and yet if he is going to be my son-in-law a little healthy fear never hurt. They’ll expect you at the wedding if they get married too- just saying.”

It was that query as to what the man thought of Dorian himself however that so had a way of capturing the man’s attention all the more, his lips tugging upward into a grin at the use of the word ‘enthusiastic’ to describe his son. The word distinctly fitting really. It was that assurance that Dorian was so innocent however that saw the concern return to the Frenchman himself, Matteo hardly finding he could disagree and yet there was something almost endearing in seeing Alexander so display that care for someone he so rarely ever dared to show. Hmm, the old softie. Dorian so apparently having left quite the impression on Old Alexander. ”I know, Alexander. I know. In one way his method of thinking terrifies me, he is naive about the world and it allows him to be hurt, yet in the same breath I so adore that way he sees so much goodness in the world. That very thing is both his strength and his weakness and I fear I can do little but hope he finds his way. This is the problem with children- they become so bloody independent. Yet who does he remind you of, hmm? Who else did you once know whom used to be much the same until he saw war? I cried for days the first time I killed a man. Thank the Gods I had you there to pick me up and smack me in the back of the head. That simper teased at his lips once more. Matteo wholly assured he had only survived that war because of Alexander even if they so rarely spoke of that distant past. ”Speaking of children, how is your Anastasia? See how I remembered to ask?”




Dorian Aragona




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