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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 know we're the crooked kind;50.188.48.144Posted On May 31, 2017 at 10:53 AM by kearn.

it's a shallow little world


Kearn is in an uncharacteristically sunny mood as he slips out of the sunshine and into dimness of the pub, one that becomes rather more…strained…when his gaze finds Flora’s and assesses her latest bit of societal rebellion. For the space of a heartbeat he considers turning on his heel and walking out again, but god knew what she’d get up to in his absence.

Better to stay, make sure the pub didn’t dissolve to chaos, and hell, have a drink - even if he was undoubtedly going to be the one paying for it.

So instead, he puts on a peculiar sharp smile and crosses to her, nodding once at the bartender, who, however begrudgingly, moves to pour him a well whiskey. Kearn can’t tell if the look on his face is relief or disappointment that the brazen girl now has a minder - or concern that the boy now sitting at his bar might mean a different kind of trouble. Though he keeps his eyes on the bartender, it’s to Flora he speaks. “Next time I’ll get here later, and see what stops you first - vomiting or arrest.” The bartender only shakes his head at this as he sets the glass down with a thud and turns away.

Kearn’s fingers skim the smooth glass and he tips the drink, sniffing the sharp-rich-deep scent of it. Instead of drinking, he sets it down once more, finally turning to Florentine. He takes her in, disheveled hair, fry-greasy fingers, the impish grin that dares and dares. What could he say to her? He’s not her parent or her guardian - they are responsible for each other in a way that runs both deeper and weaker than blood.

“Well, then,” he drawls, voice gravel, eyes slate - and then he snatches a fry with the unerring grace of a well-practiced gull and raises his glass to clink against her beer, flashing a rare smile. “To your health.”






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