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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.

anyone can do it, sing oh eyes oh209.237.83.45Posted On October 19, 2017 at 8:39 AM by beylani

dance to the rhythm of your heartbeat

On many an occasion, the blue-eyed blonde had been told that her unusually high curiosity and desire to know the things that she didn't already would find her in trouble. As the saying often went (and was often enough recited to her by her mother and father when they saw that look in their young daughter's eyes), "curiosity killed the cat". She muses herself for a moment in the continual fading of her initial fear with the thought of her dear tortoiseshell companion. Chika was not nearly as curious as Beylani was, and she was just as as cat-like as any feline could be if one deducted the uncommonly large abundance of affection she offered her human counterpart. Still though, Chika did not go wandering or prying into things that she did not often see or hear, so in actuality was it just the tortoiseshell that was nearly as unusual as the young woman or was the feline unusual in regards to her own kind? In the end, it didn't really matter but again she feels the familiar thoughtfulness of wanting to know exactly where this saying came from and how it had decidedly lasted all this time. Then, as time went on, Beylani had finally discovered the second part of that saying her parents would always use to warn her and she had to refrain from ushering a giggle as she heard it echo within her thoughts; "but satisfaction brought her back". This little saying could not have suited the young woman any better, although as she brings herself fully back to the clearing that was now growing even lighter as the sun rose entirety above the skyscrapers and those majestic mountains in the far distance, she resists again just how lucky she truly was not to be that troublesome cat in the ancient saying for things could have gone very poorly, she just didn't know the half of it though.

Sunlight begins to filter through the treetops even more now, shards of pale golden light touching down upon the floor for the clearing and chasing away the eerie darkness and quiet that had once hung over this place before. Now, the morning was here and in full force. The boughs above were filled with a symphony of birdsong from the chortling of chickadees to the loud and less melodic calls of the bluejay as he sought out his companions. Just now she suddenly hears the faint trickling of a stream somewhere hidden beneath the trees that marked the thickest parts of the once dark wood deep in the heart of Hyde Park where she could almost imagine she were anywhere else but Sacrosanct. Yet, all the sounds that begin to usher forth do nothing to cause those ever curiouser baby blues from looking away as she studied him. In the light of the morning, he was not so intimidating. Then again, it was likely because his stance no longer held that fierce and tense air, that having since been replaced by lazy calm and something she would almost call intrigue but she quickly dismisses this possibility. If anyone were worth the intrigue, it was the winged man before her. Beylani was nothing more than an ordinary small town girl having wandered far from the world she knew and stepping into a whole new one made up of busy streets and cold, steel buildings towering higher than any tree she had ever seen. The young woman had never considered herself anything out of the norm or even remotely interesting, and especially now as she stood before the tall, dark stranger she felt even more ordinary - like a blade of grass in a sea of others that looked exactly the same. When she was so used to being left behind by others, it was hard for the young woman to consider herself as anything else.

Those smooth tenors tones that fall easily into the crisp and cool air of the new day as he wears that lazy smile which seemed to replace that devilish grin he's worn earlier as he confirmed her guestimation at what he was. Faerie. While it was ultimately the only thing that made the most sense to the blue-eyed blonde, she hadn't really expected to be right in her words. He pauses only briefly as he continues on with an explanation and she could almost dared to take a bold step closer to him despite the fact that they were already within fairly close proximity to one another. He told her of how the stories she knew came to be, and she wanted to know more. What had the first encounters been like for his kind when they stood before humans? How did the two different races come to be? What was it that the fae people has traded such tales for? Trading was not trading unless something was given and then in turn taken on behalf of that giving, right? What had once been perhaps a few questions bubbling in just beneath the surface of her thoughts suddenly escalated into a sea of them. She is drawn in even further by his nonchalant shrugs as he tells her things she'd never imagined she would hear, and again her already fierce curiosity and longing the know even more is piqued as he mentions the terminology of his race within the confined of Sacrosanct. So, he was not the only one then? Looking at him, noting just how human he appeared (minus the massive leathery appendages accompanied by that pointed claw upon the spine of those wings), she couldn't help wondering if she had walked past one or two of the fae race and not even realized it. She wonders if there were more like him, with bat-like wings instead of draongfly's like she had been told of in those stories. There seemed to be no end anywhere in sight as the questions began to fill her thoughts, and how she hoped he would not leave at least some of them unanswered. There was so much she desired to know.

Unwilling to believe that destroying something she had worked so hard to save up for and make her own, those embers of defiance flicker across the curiosity that previously lit up those baby blues and she feels them burn a little hotter within her as his own hazel gaze seems to gleam with delight and amusement at her voiced displeasure of the action he had taken against her defenseless camera she subconsciously continued to hold against her breast. A part of him was right, the temptation to hold onto that photo would have been strong, but where he was wrong was believing that crushing the camera was the only way to have ensured that no one else saw it. But why was it that he did not what anyone else to see? What in all of Sacrosanct could possibly be more darkly intimidating that him? If there were others of his kind living here, just how much did it really matter that she did not keep the photo? The curiosity began to rise above the flames but as he chortles at her response she can't help those eyes from narrowing pointedly as again he debates her argument by reiterating that he had saved her from a great deal of trouble."Still... I made a promise, and I intend to keep it", she replies quietly, her stubbornness to fully accept his action as the only way coming to light briefly before quietly dissipating like morning fog beneath the warmth of the sun, going no further with all she wanted to say. That question nearly buried beneath the wild storm of other things she yearned for the answers to finds its way back to her forethoughts and she wonders if there were more than just fae people that walked among the streets of the big city. Surely if faeries were real then witches and werewolves were as well? Or were they just a product and a side effect of the tales that his kind had exchanged with humans who knows how long ago? And if they were also real, just how many of them were there? And an even more bothersome question trickles into the sea of thoughts that seemed to grow with every passing second in the winged man's presence; if faeiries existed here, had they existed in her hometown all this time without her even realizing? If only he knew just how many countless questions he awoke in her with such small and encrypted revelations.

Following him quickly and matching his steps as best as she could without needing to jog since his strides were naturally longer than her own, she moves into place beside her attacker that was no longer her attacker but instead a fascinating individual she couldn't help being so drawn to. Despite having so many things she almost desperately wanted to know, despite all the arguments she could have made against the devastation that hung idly in the back of her mind for the time being until she went to try and take another photo only to realize it would be some time now before she could do that which she most loved again, she said nothing. They were nearly returned to the frequently traveled parts of Hyde Park, and something she couldn't quite describe told her that time for such arguments or questions had ended. Soon, their conversations could be heard by others that might happen to eavesdrop, and if he believed that breaking her camera was the only way to keep whatever secret she had promised to keep she doubted he would be up for answering other questions about his people. Her baby blues remained upon him and for a moment so brief she wondered if perhaps she had imagined it, something in her companion falters and that calm seems to crack but she is unable to study it further before it returns, that fleeting smile shifting back into its natural lazy if not devilish grin as hazel meets soft and curious blue. Again he speaks in that amused way, and again that glimmer of defiance rises in the young woman."Little by your standards, but I happen to be taller than some you know?", she rebukes as normally sweet and gentle word are ushered with a confident exactness. It wasn't like she were four feet tall, and there were people in Sacrosanct that she managed to surpass in height and more. He gives a small shrug of his shoulders for a reason she does not know and then at last she has a name to call him by. Andras. It was strong and it sharp and she finds that it suits him better than anything she could have tried to guess at. Nodding at his words, she would hardly call their encounter and discovery of each other as "pleasure" seeing as their first moments had left her in wild fear for her life and even with that behind them now he seemed to find entertainment at pressing those normally hard-to-reach buttons of hers, but as their steps find them on the mail trail now and making their way to the park entrance, she is surprised to find that despite everything she was drawn to him when she likely shouldn't be.

His next words make realize that she trult had been clutching the unsavable camera all this time, the regret and devastation she'd nearly forgotten altogether resurfacing as she lowers her gaze to the camera for a moment."I've captured a lot of beautiful moments with this camera. It may be useless, but it still means a lot to me and if anything, it'll serve as a reminder", she answers, the defiance having left her voice now as it is replaced by a note of mourning that she quietly pushes away. It was her fault really that it had happened, and even if he hadn't needed to go such lengths to make her keep the promise to say nothing of what happened to another soul, she had been the one to put herself and her camera in that position. They didn't call them consequences for nothing, after all. A gentle smile dances across her lips as she looks up to Andras."So... Andras... Would you, um, be interested in joining me for breakfast?", she asks with slowly ushered and contemplative words, a shyness finding its way into her sterling voice. In truth, she didn't really know what to do now. She turns her gaze away from him and looks ahead of them, noticing the wooden sign that marked the borders of the park. She is able to see her plain white four-door sedan from here and there is a sense of regret that this wild turn of events she never in a million years could have seen coming was nearly over. So, she asks her "attacker" to breakfast... As odd as it seemed, she wanted to know more about his kind even after the frightening experience... and more about him. He was still very much a mystery to her in so many ways and she had a weakness for such things."I think we could both use it. That and I'd really like to know more about you", she continues on with the hope that just maybe he might consider it. She didn't know if he ate the things she did or drank the things that she drank but all forms of life needed some sort of sustenance right? It seemed logical to the blue-eyed blonde, but then again the very real existence of Andras had shattered what had once been her reality so now she couldn't be so sure that her logic would even apply anymore.

Beylani Rose~
dante|image by claudia nuta



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