East

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.

What You'll Find Here

City Creek Center
Dark Hunter Department
Inner Sanctum
Red on the Water
Starlight Tower

you're my water you're my wine


Posted on October 27, 2017 by malek ackerman
East

Malek Ackerman

You're my water. You're my wine.



Her words are lost on deaf ears as he devours his prey. How delicious it truly was. Never again would Malek feed off of animals to sate his hunger, this was who he was, this is what the gods made him. He was a predator and the mortal trash should quake as he neared, they were no better than ants beneath his feet. Even the feeling of his fingers playing in the tangles of his hair is ignored, he knows nothing but the blood in his mouth, filling his body. And when he finishes, not bothering to wipe his face from his snack, he merely turns on a heel, practically materializing in front of Petra, that devilish grin so adorning his features as he peers down at her. Hips pinning her against the wall, he felt strong again, quick, immortal; Malek felt like a damn God.

His metal gray eyes are dark as his gaze locks with her, even going as far as to travel her body, stripping her with his look. After a moment, he leans forward and whispers into her ear, allowing the vampire to lean forward and brush her lips with his, though he doesn't make a move to deepen the act, nor take it any farther. At least not yet. Instead, Malek arches a brow at her, the dark smile dancing on his lips, which only grows more malicious as the woman speaks to him about painting the town red. Tilting his head, as if he were truly contemplating her suggestion, he regards her as if she were a mouse, one he would rather enjoy hunting tonight.

"Ah, I cannot disagree with you," he purrs at her, lowering his lips to brush her neck, entirely trapping her against the wall. Rather than planting a kiss there, he allows his bloodied lips to rest there as his cool breath travels across her and he speaks against her skin, "Perhaps we can start with that boy standing outside the club?" He suggests, referring to the man who gave the woman lustful eyes, he didn't particularly care to have his belongings tampered with. And at least for tonight, Petra belonged to him. After a moment, he pulls away, his eyes hooded with hunger, yet, Malek wasn't just after blood this evening.

Removing his body from hers, he takes a step back to allow the woman some space as he gestures down the alley to the still smoking group. "Show me how you hunt, Petra," he growls, those baritones releasing from his throat. Tilting his head lazily to the group beyond them, he can still see that man staring into the shadows, though they were cloaked in darkness, he could see the contemplation in the stranger's eyes, as if he wanted to brave the dark and seek out Petra. He knew the look of lust all too well.

"I'll even leave that one to you," he states casually, sniffing in distaste at the man, with perhaps a bit of jealousy tinging his lyrics.

"You are correct though, my dear. I don't like sharing," he rumbles darkly, his eyes glinting dangerously as he turns those metallic eyes back to the smaller woman. Perhaps he didn't outright say it, but he was certain Petra would find the meaning clear. With his heightened senses, he listens to the drunk couple that passes by the alley, their laughter echoing down the walls. Darting a tongue out, he relishes the taste of blood on his lips before he raises a hand and wipes at the rest of the blood; cleaning himself up as best as possible.

He didn't want to scare dinner off with a blood splattered face, though their terror would be delicious. And all the while, he can faintly hear the screaming of someone inside his head, telling him to stop. Yet, it was so much easier to ignore. Why would he stop? Especially when he hadn't had this much fun in centuries.

You're my whiskey. From time to time.

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