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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

frankly i'd like at least a city named after me and one of your iced coffees too101.176.142.253Posted On November 11, 2017 at 12:52 AM by Rixon Leifsson


Frost was, in that moment, largely oblivious to those internal considerations that turned within the Hunter’s mind. His own thoughts still considering that almost curious wording on Alexander’s part. The notion of anyone ‘dealing’ with the council had a way of intriguing his curiosity even if he hardly doubted the Hunter would be successful , nor could he truly comprehend the depths of either Alexanders commitment to that unspoken promise or the man’s larger plans. Alexanders influence as a being perhaps not fully appreciated by even Frost himself. Acts of kindness after all, for his benefit, had simply never existed. Frost unable to comprehend them as a possibility in a world he had become jaded against since his earliest years. It was easier, after all, to expect nothing from those around him. To expect nothing was never to be disappointed in any sense. The stallion entirely aware of how disparaging such thoughts were and yet he allowed them to flicker and pass within his mind before turning to those more pressing issues of battle and those plans required to survive it. Frost lead the way back down those stairs with his rider in tow, that clothing striped from his figure with practised ease to be tossed onto the nearest furniture, leaving only his jeans as he stepped outside into that cold rain and threatening storm.

That shift came with relative ease as Alexander plucked those jeans from the floor and turned to lock that café. Frost’s equine figure wandering closer to the hunter now only to sidestep him the moment Alexander’s hand reached to entangle itself in those pale locks. The stallion shifting again with each effort the Macedonian man made to mount him. That cursing that fell from the Hunter’s lips was all but ignored, Frost content to shove his muzzle into Alexanders pocket if only to make clear that point. The beast nothing if not intelligent when he chose to be. The chance of Alexander attempting to enforce those rules of just when he might be allowed that treat were decidedly slim when presented with rain and an upcoming battle. Frost counting on Alexander’s impatience to be out of that downpour- or in the very least moving through it- to give in to his own wants rather than making him work for that treat in any sense. That apple that was presented to him mere moments later was swiftly plucked from the man’s hand, Frost at last lifting his foreleg and standing still enough to let the man nimbly swing up and onto his back. That comment about indigestion ignored as he finished that fruit just in time for the Hunter’s heels to press at his sides in that command for forward. Frost willing enough to oblige as he set off into that ever-increasing rain that had already drenched his coat to a dark grey. That chill cutting at the once-warm skin beneath. This was going to be an unpleasant evening.

The war horse was hardly rushed in that canter towards the forest itself. That trip something of a warm up for those muscles that would surely be in far more significant use in the coming hours. Frost keeping that pace even and yet he hardly engaged any real energy in his stride- at least not yet. That tree line a near welcome relief if only for the chance it might be drier beneath that canopy and yet those narrow spaces so had a way of making him uneasy all the same. Frost decidedly aware of his size. The idea of getting stuck, somehow, one he hardly enjoyed entertaining. Alexander swung from his back near instantly, the Macedonian man proceeding to wander about staring at the ground as Frost merely watched on with some vague curiosity. At least until he was waved over. Those heavily feathered hooves halted beside that pile of leaves before that command to roll in them was met with the most dubious look the stallion could manage. It was a sensible plan, he supposed and yet those wet, muddy leaves clung to his fur and mane. His already we coat becoming all the more sodden. His normally impressive mane hanging in soaking dregs as he managed to clamour to his feet once more, his neck extended briefly to shake those loose leaves from his hair as Alexander moved to afford himself that same treatment.

”Alexander the Great, rolling around in the dirt. I shall remember this.”

Those words were pressed to the Hunter’s mind alone, that taint of amusement within them before he lifted that foreleg again- allowing Alexander to climb back on- before assuring him he intended on using his shower tonight. Frost having little desire to have those leaves and mud washed down his own drain. That promise he could use the mans ‘good’ soap, provided he won, earning the Hunter a snort by way of response. If they didn’t win Frost held every belief they would hardly be here to consider soap all the same and yet he hardly saw any need to make mention of that. Frost apparently content to meet that possible death with the same apathy he met every other day. His tail lifting to slap against his flanks in an effort to lessen the weight of the water that drenched it.

Who keeps a ‘good’ soap?

Soap, as far as Frost was concerned was no better or worse than any other soap. That some beings had levels by which they defined it had never occurred to him, that query an almost genuine curiosity. The sudden boom of that distance thunder seeing the stallion shift almost uneasily in place. He was hardly afraid of something so mundane as a thunder storm and yet his equine form was prone to feeling that electricity in the air and, more so, that wind so had a habit of making those thundering booms all the louder and deafening against his overly-sensitive ears. The stallion unaware that very concern had crossed his companions mind in that same moment. His ears twisted backwards at those uttered Greek words. Frost hardly understanding them and yet those accented tones had a way of focusing his attention even if he hardly knew why. Some part of that soothing lilt was pleasing to him- even if he refused to admit it. That request to go forward again was met with only the slightest of hesitation to give away that internal displeasure that came with those narrow dark places. Frost stepping forward all the same despite the manner in which he could feel the increase in his own heartbeat. It was…pathetic of him he was sure. That fear so illogical and yet it clung to him all the more on that narrow path. The stallion refusing to let those thoughts tug at him, Frost almost unaware of that slightly quicker pace he had taken up- at least until that hand rested on his neck. His good eye rolled back to eye the hunter a moment, Alexander seeming almost unaware he had taken to stroking that fur and yet Frost hardly saw a need to stop him. His pace slowing once more in some….appreciation of that gesture.

His own words offered suddenly then. Frost making no effort to indulge Alexander in any importance upon that offering of his real name and yet there were precious few in the world who knew it. That, perhaps, the singular most significant gesture in his trust of that man that had ever been given. Hunter’s rarely afforded the true names of their mounts. Frost content to assure the man it was purely for those practical purposes it was given all the same. After all, he hardly wanted ‘Frost’ written on his grave. Would it be entirely terribly for one or two people to remember he had a real name at all? Alexander, with his inability to forget near any detail it seemed, likely to remember that. Frost continuing to stride forward in that silence that followed. The stallion hardly anticipating that response- much less that Alexander too seemed to hold another name. Alexandros. It was strikingly similar to the Hunter’s current moniker and yet there was a distinctly….aged sound to that name. One, Frost thought, held more….impact than simply ‘Alexander’ and yet that assurance of the manner in which the English tongue seemed to destroy those subtly crafted names was one he could wholly attest to. The pair, in that moment, entirely in agreement. Alexander pronunciation of his name utterly flawless. Enough to near see a simper touch his lips.

”In my entire life, aside from my mother, you are only the second person to ever pronounce it correctly. For what it is worth though, Alexandros suits you.”

It was an entirely unanticipated moment of bonding. The war horses often guarded personality seeming to have almost…dropped for a moment to afford the hunter a glimpse of some measure of companionability that existed beneath- before his mind returned to that task at hand and the mention of those deer. Frost entirely capable of smelling them though those trees. The stallion aware of Alexander straightening then before declaring they required as many as possible and that he need only place them behind those creatures. That a request he was assured he remained capable off even if that plan at large seemed unclear to him. Frost placing his simple faith in Alexander then- that the man would not lead him astray and guide them both to their deaths. After all, had not Alexander once promised him just that? That he would not steer him wrong? Those toned muscles bunched beneath his pelt then, the stallion extending from that walk and into a trot, another boom of that approaching thunder echoing within those trees before the first flash of that lightning seemed to illuminate that space. Frost snorting in irritation before pressing onward, the stallion shifting further into those trees then, his sheer size making travel at any faster pace near impossible, his hooves snapping and breaking those twigs beneath as those branches claws at him- his ears laced back in displeasure before he begun to circle back. One ear trained on that forest and those deer he was, slowly, beginning to herd together. Frost near relying on those touches of Alexander’s heels to guide him on his blind right side and prevent him striking those trees. This, perhaps, the most he had ever relied on the man and too- the most attentive he had ever been to those non-verbal signals. Frost near loath to admit that constant training had clearly paid off. Alexanders methods far more useful than the stallion had anticipated. Another crack of thunder splitting overhead.

God it’s fucking loud.

Those words more thought then any true words, pressed from his mind to Alexanders own. Those trees illuminated again as his head shook, Frost attempting to chase away that glare his eye was left with in that wake of those blinding flashes. His stride lengthened even further now, his hooves lifting them up and over a fallen log near effortlessly as the faint sound of those deer lingered ahead. The stallion adjusting himself once more until he was assured they were behind them that scent and their heat signatures assuring him off it.

”We are behind them now, at least fifteen of them, they will try and turn back into the forest once we drive them closer to that open field. We are nearly there now. I can travel faster than this to force them forward if you want but….I can see nothing to my right. You will need to be one of my eyes in these god-forsaken trees.”





f r o s t
we built this city on broken glass




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