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

no better version of me I could pretend to be tonight


Posted on July 30, 2018 by BRENDEN
East
Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside

Brenden


7:35PM

The chiming of the bell that rings through the store has the man with dark eyes glancing up, Brenden entirely aware of the fact that he was going to rip that bell off the door and throw it on the ground one day. The sound already was grating his nerves. Turning his whole body to face the woman that so walks in the door, he frowns at her, the man hardly good at customer service as he announces that they are closed and wouldn't be open for another week. Folding his arms over his chest, the muscles within his forearms and biceps are noticeable, the man spending most of his free time at the gym. "And I don't particularly think its normal for someone to walk in when there's a sign on the door stating a business is closed," his gravelly tones are directed at her, though there is hardly any annoyance coating his lyrics, it was a mere statement as he battles her sarcasm. Though, his words hardly deter the woman in the slightest as she moves farther into the store, closer to him as he stands by the reception desk. Brenden hardly says anything in that moment, instead, he merely watches her as she meets his gaze with such confidence he can't help but feel a twinge of respect in the back of his mind. You didn't meet many people who had the balls to look at him like that and here was this stranger who knew exactly what she was doing.

Brenden doesn't speak again, knowing full well she would explain, or she wouldn't and they would be plunged into an interesting silence before he kicked her out or manhandled her out of his store. Yet, he lets patience fill his bones as the woman regards him with a scrutiny he isn't sure about, whether she was checking him out or not remained to be seen, perhaps she simply enjoyed staring at people. Pushing the thought away, he's drawn back to the woman in front of him as her intake of breath distracts him from his thoughts. Her words hardly phase him, that frown perpetually engraved on his face as he merely stares at her. He was looking to hire another artist and a receptionist he just didn't expect to have someone walk in and demand a job. It was the control he craved and this wasn't something that he had planned for, the man enjoying being meticulous; it was in his nature. She wasn't wrong though, the man was indeed the store owner. Brows furrowing deeper, he has a strong urge to kick her out and tell her not to come back, he didn't like the demanding tone in her voice, it grated him. But, he hardly knew if there were tattoo artists within the city, at least skilled ones and it did save him time from having to research.

Grunting at her, he unfolds his arms from his chest, "I'm the owner," he answers gruffly before he calls on that affinity, the man hardly moving a muscle as a pen and a piece of paper floats from the office and settles on the desk next to him. Taking his eyes off her for a moment, he reaches over and picks the utensils up as her vocals reach his ears again. Harley. It was fitting somehow. Though, he hardly answers her barely giving her any acknowledgment that she had introduced himself before simply handing the woman the paper and pen, merely motioning with a hand to the seat at the receptionist desk. "You have 10 minutes, show me what you can do," he grunts at her, stepping aside so she might slide into the chair if she so decided. Though, Brenden hardly goes very far, he wasn't quite hovering but he was watching. The warlock merely wanted to see if she could work under pressure, could create something in such a short time. Could she work while that aloof gaze watched her every mood? He was curious, though the emotion is carefully concealed within him.

Folding his arms over his chest once more, he waits for her to begin, and when she does, Brenden glances down at the watch he wears, monitoring carefully. Ah, what could the woman produce in ten minutes? It wasn't an impossible task but it was challenging. Would she chose to go fast and chance her work being sloppy? Or would she take her time and work on the intricacies of the sketch and not complete it? So many options. The ball was in his court and he knew it. If this woman wanted to demand a job from him, well, he would make sure it was in his favor.

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