The east side of the city is the very heart of Sacrosanct - it's unique skyline is a clash between modern sky rises and small Victorian-inspired 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. It's here that magic thrives, it hums in every stone and can be felt in every breath. Often, newcomers to the city may become overwhelmed by such sensations but, eventually, it becomes an ever-present feeling that's hardly noticed.
City Creek Center
Dark Hunter Department
Inner Sanctum
Red on the Water
Starlight Tower
The City Creek Center is an upscale open-air shopping center centered in the heart of downtown Sacrosanct. With its numerous fountains, foliage-lined walkways, and bubbling streams, City Creek Center offers three blocks of chic boutiques, delicious dining, and the newest showrooms.
The City of Sacrosanct's Dark Hunter Department's primary concern is the safety of all of Sacrosanct's residences. Their public safety responsibilities include code enforcement and supernatural crime prevention. The Sacrosanct Dark Hunter's Department follows the directions of the International Dark Hunter Council and serves as a local point of contact for any Dark Hunters working within the Council's ranks.
The Inner Sanctum is an independently's owned specialty coffee company and cafe with a singular focus: quality. A hidden gem on the side streets of the busy downtown, the Inner Sanctum source's the world's finest beans and local treats. From it's delectable pastries to the exquisite latte art, the Inner Sanctum is dedicated to both its craft and the customer's experience. With beans roasted in house and every cup prepared by the best baristas, you will never be disappointed at the Inner Sanctum.
Owner Alexander Macedonia
Barista Alexis Wilde
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 flair 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.
Home of: Elysium
Owner Isolt Marcello
Co-Owner Damon Marcello
Waitress Yumi Chizue
With one hundred floors and a 125-foot spire, the Starlight Tower rises high above the Sacrosanct skyline. More than just a landmark, the Starlight Tower offers a unique mix of restaurants, shops, and offices spaced throughout the building. Organized into nine verticle zones, each of which features a sky lobby and a light-filled garden atrium which merge the upscale interior with a faux landscaped exterior setting.
Anastasia Romanova
The lapse in communication between her and Alexaander was, she supposed, to be expected. Time was an entirely different and wholly fluid concept when one had the possibility of eternity laid out before them as some unending red carpet to herald them ever onwards. Decades dawned and were put to rest in the proverbial blinking of an eye; Anastasia knew this all too well even in the mere century and then some that had passed before her. She was understanding, then, of Alex's failure to keep in touch with any regularity, for truely the passing of millennia would tend to distort and dilute the value of time as it passed through the ciphon of immortality's hourglass. This was not to say that he did not cross her mind, for in truth he did so quite often, thoughts of her flaxen-haired creator playing against her mind's eye in an affectionate manner that could only ever be associated with him.
In fact, the simper that casts its light unto the sharp features of her face is an homage to the affections she harbors for him and him alone. Alexander was the sole individual worthy of such lighthearted intimacy anymore, any other worthwhile recipient having long ago been taken from her by fate's cruel and unforgiving hand. His embrace is welcomed and returned in kind, the young woman's heart warmed at the use of a nickname that had, with the exception of the man before her, never been used by anyone outside of her immediate familial clutch. He was, it would seem, the exception to every personal regulation that had once and did still govern her interactions with others. Anastasia had oft found herself described as cold, apathetic, indifferent to plight no matter the scenario; it was, all of it, indicative of every member of the imperial family. This was not to say that there was not affection shown and shared amongst the Romanov clan, Anastasia willing to admit a boundless measure of love for her family and yet... it was nonetheless a small miracle that the forgotten Duchess embraces her creator.
"Ah well, I do so love being unpredictable," she quips with the timely quirking of a sumptuous pair of cherry lips. An expression that wanes precariously with the inquiry she knew would be asked of her. For all of the trust that she placed within this man, for all of the faith that had been a century in the making, the Russian dame could not bring herself to impart upon him the truth of her arrival in Sacrosanct. Not yet, not until such a time as her proverbial fingers had clasped about the ever-elusive certainty that she sought. And so instead does she reach a single decliate hand into the depths of her coat pocket. "I have something that I want to give you, it has taken me years to find it," she nearly whispers as she extracts from her pocket a delicate ball of linen. It was not a lie, merely only a small part of the grander truth of her arrival that, for now, she was content to placate him with. Carefully do her hands pluck at the finely-stitched edges of the linen handkerchief to expose... a small, jeweled box. No larger than her hand is it, adorned with jewels that had once certainly shown brighter than any star given to the night sky, the velvet casing worn somewhat from a hundred or more admiring caresses. And yet Anastasia handles it as if it is no less than the most precious thing she might ever hold as she extends it slowly to her maker.