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    The South

    Although the southern parts of the city might not have the luxuries of the north or the down town vibe of the east, but these suburbs still have their own sort of charm. Here small neighborhood owned shops often run rampant, individuals often know each other by first name. The west is a quaint, quiet part of town. It's the sort of place where children can be seen playing safely on the sidewalks and clamoring in the park. On the weekends in the families often take to the beach to enjoy the warm waters that surround the city.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Hyde Park

    Hyde Park

    Hyde Place takes up a large part of the Southern side of the city and includes a large playground, several fountains, and a small garden. The park is open from five in the morning till midnight though many shady characters may visit this place while it's technically "closed". The park has also been a venue for several concerts and hosts many holiday related events. Under a full moon, witches are often seen here for the sacred ground beneath the iconic Weeping Beech.

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    The Outskirts

    The Outskirts

    Beyond the city limits and over the bridge lies the deep, dark, and almost impenetrable forest. Often times seen as a way to guard this magical city from the world that surrounds it, many are entirely ignorant of the evil that may creep between those tree trunks. Many were-creatures use the forest for the transformations of their newest members and some even take to hunting here. It isn't particularly peculiar for people to go missing within this forest but once you get through, the rest of the world awaits.

we are the sign, we are the wonder108.93.10.156Posted On October 18, 2017 at 6:13 PM by anastasia romanova


It is no small wonder that Anastasia had hardly been the most social of her siblings, her preference so oft swaying for the companionship of herself rather than that of her family (aside from her father, she supposed) or the gaggle of other noble children that so often cluttered the banquet halls of her family's palace. It was a nuance of her personality that had accompanied Anastasia into adolescence and, it seemed, one that was immune even to the upheaval of death. Her independence and apathy towards the majority of established social constructs were, perhaps, the primary reasons that she had taken to Alexander in the manner that she (eventually) had. That, of course, and the iron will that both King and Duchess seemed to possess down to the very marrow of their bones.

The petulance of the young Were does not come as any measurable surprise, though, for surely this was to be expected of one still very much ensconced in the cacoon of their youth. And so does Anastasia remain perfectly statuesque save for the surreptitious simper perched just so upon her lips as Calliel spits her venom. It was peculiar, truly, for some part of Calliel reminded Anastasia so much of herself as she had been in the years following the demise of her family. How many times had she spat her own venom at Alexander? How many times had the venegful amalgamation of anger, sorrow, and obstinacy blinded her to what she could have been... to what she would eventually become?

It would come to pass. It always did.

"Do not sulk, Calliel. It is unbecoming of you," she issues flatly, hardly attempting to hinder the young girl from the chores she had set herself about the stable, rather choosing to indulge in a meandering stroll in Calliel's stead. Unfettered does the Duchess traipse the line of latched wooden doors, the crackle of wayward hay sprigs acting as a backdrop to the pregnant silence between Hunter and Were. The auburn-haired woman gives pause before a single door, behind which towers a remarkably exquisite stallion. As white as untouched snow upon a hillside, heavily muscled... just the same as her family's cache of equines had always been. A touch of nostalgia, marked by its brevity, skates its tempting finger over the thoughts that flit about her brain as the stallion in question leans his massive head beyond the boundary of his quarters in order to nudge coyly at her shoulder. It is a moment severed, though, by the musing of the sullen blonde. A musing that is not readily indulged, at least not verbally. What were they supposed to be to one another? What had Alexander intended in his unwavering determination to see the pair of women united? Was Anastasia to be the budding equine's teacher? Her protector? Or was this, perhaps, her Maker's ploy to impart a lesson upon Anastasia herself?

An amusing consideration... truly.

"You are not supposed to be anything to me, nor I you. We have no arrangement with one another until we choose to. And even then I shall come and go as I please; I am sure that you will do the same." Her tone is one that is not unkind, though it leaves very little room for misinterpretation of meaning. "Now," she continues, "I hardly believe that you come here just to tidy up after the horses. Why don't we stretch our legs, hmm?"

Anastasia Romanova

Grand Duchess of Imperial Russia



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