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    The North

    Within the Northern vicinity of the city the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high class victorian architecture. The streets are paved with stone, the buildings are made of brick, and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting. In the North every establishment is made to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - weather it be illegal or merely looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allow them the luxuries that the North provides.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    St. Pancras Station

    owned by Eve Thorn
    0 employees

    St. Pancras Station

    A historical train station renovated in to a luxury resort-style country club that unites Victorian elegance with contemporary style. Relax in the full-service spa featuring spa treatments, saunas, spa pools with hydro therapy & aqua bar, and relaxation lounges. The club offers many dining and entertainment options including Seven Sisters Lounge, Victoria Bistro, Barlow Gastropub and the formal St. Pancras restaurant as well as boutique shopping and event halls. Join The Chambers Club for a more exclusive entertainment experience.

    Owner Eve Thorn

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    The VooDoo Room

    owned by Ceara Hade
    0 employees

    The VooDoo Room

    The Voodoo Room is an award winning bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. The bar is filled with intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe to keep you coming back. Their mixologists meet the highest standards with our fantastical themed selections of cocktails and specials.

    Owner Ceara Hade

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    The Witchery

    owned by Rowena Metcalf
    1 employees

    The Witchery

    Dark, gothic, and throughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's fabulously lavish suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence and luxury. The suites you have to choose from are: the Vestry, Sempill, the Old Rectory, the Library, the Turret, Heriot, Guardsroom, Armory.

    Owner Rowena Metcalf

    Sous Chef Elenore Dorian

Heading for hell;184.148.34.166Posted On December 04, 2017 at 12:58 PM by HARLEY WESTWARD




We're all rotten, buried and forgotten,

Living it up underground



It was really no surprise that the dark haired woman felt lost without her friend in those moments they weren’t together. Her whole world seemed to shift in a way she hadn’t felt possible, it felt entirely bleaker, strange and so very close to an unspoken edge. She stood on that precipice, closer the precarious depths that would have swallowed her whole and not think twice. She was alone, staring into the wicked maw of what wanted to devour her. She was hurt by Isolt’s absence and yet she somehow managed to survive. She missed the life they once lived, the dynamic they once shared. She knew times were different now and not everything would go back to the way it was. Life went on with or without you, well, unless you were dead.

Why else do you think she lured the woman out into the bar, knowing very well that she wasn’t wanted. She looked to her drink, letting the words escape her, unaware of the tension that built within her companion. Yet those words truly lacked the venom she could possess. She was swallowed by a hurt that felt heavy within her chest.

Harley knew she couldn’t outrun a past that was surely nipping at her heels. All she knew was that she didn’t want those demons to consume her only to be forgotten by none. It was no surprise that she searched from the only safety she had once known. The cold hard fact was the safest she had felt was in Sacrosanct with Isolt as her loyal friend. They had gone through some serious shit together. It was no surprise when things got messy that she knew Isolt would understand. She avoided eye contact, avoided seeing the resentment or whatever else was on her face. She closed her eyes for a moment allowing the real vulnerability to bubble passed that steely resolve. What the fuck was wrong with her, she needed to down that drink and woman the fuck up. She was tired, tired of so much but she was dead. So long as her heart still beat she wasn’t just going to roll over and take it.

She grit her teeth slightly, wishing to take back words that should have never left her mouth. God dammit she fucking hated this vulnerability shit. It was Isolt’s words and a movement of her hand that made Harley lift turn her head toward her, allowing her vibrant violet eyes to meet her face. “I promise too.” She reached out her hand, pinky out. She didn’t give a flying fuck if anyone saw it. It was such a juvenile action and yet it inspired a warm feeling through her. She smirked, her eyes void of the hardened jaded ones that she usually wore.

The tone shifted, readily and welcomed. She couldn’t be pissed at her friend, not really. That raging hostility was often reserved to the public at large. “Fuck word. You get to choose what you want to do. But I always knew you would make a pretty bride. You know like in those magazines.” She admitted resolutely. “Ultimately, it’s your decision, so fuck everyone else and what they want. This is for you.” I guess it was for him as well. Reluctantly she finally admits. “oh and him, I guess.” He counts too she supposed.

“Big ass wedding with all the glitz or glamour or justice of the peace, you bet your ass I will be there. Even if it means both of us are at the helm at the ship.” She repeated and laughed at the thought of them driving some big ass ship and knowing what a disaster that would surely be. “One thing for sure is.. we will need one of those unlimited bars.” At that thought she brought her drink to her lips, tossing it back in one fell swoop, feeling the warm comforting burn.

How does one choose a florist? Isolts questions reached her ears. This was definitely an answer for the all-knowing google. “Oh I think I can figure that part. Google.” She teased, pulling out her phone her fingers deftly typing the word florist. There was at least 10 choices. A wry grin echoing a confidence, before she proudly showed the results. Isolt then mentioned that as long as they weren’t dead it didn’t matter who brought them. “Isolt I think all the flowers they bring to those things are all pretty dead. It’s not living when they cut them. I still don’t understand why people pay so fucking much for a dead thing. It’s beyond me.
“Oh you got it, Iz. You better hope no one gets in our way if that was the case. If shit hits the fan we will go somewhere tropical and drink margaritas until we question our own names.” They would then have to decide if or when they were going to return or what their next move was. Hell they could pick new identities for all she cared. A cheeky grin mischievously finds her lips. Then an up to no good light flickered within the depths of those amethyst eyes. “Oh shit… this means I need to plan a bachelorette party.. this I think I can do..” She fought back an amused laugh, shaking her head slowly knowing very well what that would entail. She tapped her fingers on the worn lacquered bar top, trouble dancing within those purple eyes.





Harlequin Ray Westward






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