North

Within the Northern vicinity of the city, the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high-class architecture. The pristine streets are paved with stone and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting - for the right clientele. In the North, every establishment is eager to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - whether it happens to be illegal or merely involves looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allows them the luxuries that the North provides.

What You'll Find Here

Eternity
The VooDoo Room
The Witchery

the moon is always full for us;


Posted on April 14, 2017 by kearn.
North
it's a shallow little world

This close up, he could see where the Viking got his reputation. He was all sun-drenched lion, resplendent on his savannah, brutal and sure in his power. Kearn is a crow: sometimes careful, sometimes bold, always quick; a small thing pulling at the feathers of those bigger and better.

And god help him, he can see this lion's tail is already twitching in irritation.

Kearn said nothing in response to the male's rebuke and order, only offers him a close-mouthed smile and watches for a moment in silence as people pass through the park. Even as the offender, he is as uninterested in excuses as the viking surely is; they are both men of action, in their own ways. He finds that his tardiness has one benefit, at least - it is lunchtime, and all the rich businessmen who cater to the even more rich are emerging from their offices, pouring out of their gleaming buildings. People who make six figures don't eat at their desks.

Curiously, they steer clear of the bench that Dvaerg has staked out, and any glances that do come their way are hastily averted. Maybe these people had some instinctual sense that told them that a lion was here.

Ah, but people aren't afraid of crows.

Kearn stands and meanders into the crowd, his gaze light as a feather as it touches each potential mark. He does his best to ignore the giant of a man on the bench, but even the sun feels weaker with that gaze watching. Kearn schools his features into friendly hopefulness, adjusts his gait, straightens his shoulders, and heads for a group of dark-suited men near a babbling fountain. When he reaches them, he makes to walk through the cluster of bodies -

and he trips.

He's all mortified apologies as a middle-aged man reaches out to steady him, clasping his wrist, his cheeks turning pink as the other men shuffle back and check their phones self-consciously.

"So sorry - I'm late for an internship interview-"
"No worries, young man -"
"Thank you, sir!"

And just like that it's over, and the man who'd helped him even wishes him luck before heading off again with his coworkers. Kearn allows himself a brief smile as he turns back, straightening his jacket, pocket heavier with the weight of the man's Vacheron Constantin. The smile is gone by the time he returns to the bench, and somewhere deep inside he's thinking please god don't let him be pissed off further. Kearn didn't need to be a part of the Utlagi - but that didn't mean he didn't want it. There were only so many doors he could pick open on his own.

Smoothly he tosses the $20,000 watch to the viking, its gleaming face catching sunlight with a brief wink. "I won't be late again." His voice is level as polished slate; Kearn is a lot of things - many of them unsavory - but a liar isn't one of them.


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