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
me and the devil, walking side by side
Posted on April 28, 2019 by ASKAREE
askaree
He looked well. Better than he had before. He appeared stronger today than he had a week ago when last she had come to visit with him. A miniscule victory, and certainly not one capable of luring her down the avenue of false hope as it had done in times before. Though it had been a matter of several years since fate had deemed it suitable to strike him ill, the frailty that had brittled his bones and siphoned the majority of his once considerable vitality still set the Egyptian woman's teeth on edge, her jaw framed by a stony, harsh line. How was it that this literal beast of a man had been fated for such detrimental ills while the likes of Donald Trump was permitted to remain as healthy as a fucking burnt-orange ox (the hair: who wore it better)? Who the fuck was in charge of that horse shit?
They spoke for a time once the elder man had finished with his meal. Or, rather, he spoke while she merely listened, coaxed to silence by the sole individual capable of such a tremendous and daunting feat as to quiet the acidic tongue of Askaree. He was prone to reliving tales of the old country, and why wouldn't he? For those had been his glory days, the height of his strength, the pinnacle of his formidable reign. Now there were only these four walls (nice though they were), the Egyptian man having proven too sickly, too frail to venture far beyond this veritable palace of stagnation. Perhaps if he was feeling well enough she could coax the scrub-clad wardens that policed this geriatric bonanza to allow him some yard time. For now, though, does the caramel-skinned woman finally take her leave of him, an astonishingly gentle caress of her lips against the weathered, wrinkled skin upon his cheek all that she offers by way of farewell.
It isn't until one of the bottle-blonde, possibly-middle-aged hags huddled behind the reception desk peeled her eyes from the latest issue of whatever mind-melting gossip rag she was perusing to inform Askaree of a gentleman who had been inquiring after her that her eyes sliced across the broad and ornately decorated expanse of the waiting area. A fleeting moment is but all it takes before her eyes fall upon a familiar, though admittedly unexpected, figure. Given any other collection of circumstances she would have happily (and vociferously, let's be real) turned the crosshairs of her devious inclinations unto him in the same unapologetic and unwavering manner that she had done countless times before.
This time, however, her brooding dark-haired sex tree would soon discover that he had toed an extremely precarious line. His presence here was hardly an accident, and for that she would have him make penance.
Askaree places herself before his seated figure, a viper pressed into a seductive coil. "I wouldn't have pegged you for the type to cruise the geriatric wing for a fuck but... desperate times? Or maybe the aroma of moth-balls and Pine Sol gets you all revved up?" She lowers herself then, a hand placed unto each of his thighs, her thumbs placing a not-inconsiderable amount of pressure into the fabric of his trousers. The barest hint of a grin twists itself onto her features, though the maniacal gaiety of it does not bleed its fallacy into her eyes as they bore into his. Nor does it offer levity to the whispered hiss that is her final query. "What the fuck are you doing here, Spencer?"