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

i see your cards and i know your type


Posted on April 09, 2022 by ASKAREE
North

A S K A R E E

loco, maniac, sick bitch, psychopath


Had the gift of mind-reading been an arrow in her proverbial quiver Askaree would have indulged in a bout of hearty laughter much to the expense of the gentleman seated beside her. If he found the scathing venom of her tongue of such delight he would surely have found an endless bounty of enjoyment in the pursuit of his so-called 'kinky fuckery'. She had rattled the lights loose in more than one dank, dust-choked back room in this town that seemed to house an infinite supply. His assumption was accurate, he wouldn't find another like her. She was one in a fucking million.

"Not as much as you would," she purrs, proffering him a titillating leer and a pointed stare before her attention is summoned by the approach of the unfortunate red-faced mongrel stomping his way towards them. His type were aplenty amongst the less-seedier of the city's underbellies, perpetually in search of a fellow dimwit who might be up for a bout of pointless dick-measuring. The Egyptian woman had brought more than a few to bloody grief when they had found themselves unfortunate enough to be in the ring with her.

Little more than a wayward glance is cast towards the vulgar Scot and his all-too-easily dispatched adversary. Jesus, it was like watching someone throw hands at the fucking Michelin man. Quick to take advantage of the gentleman's distraction Askaree makes to sample the amber liquid swirling about in the tumbler that he had momentarily abandoned before signaling to the bartender to procure another for her, only to find that he seemed utterly consumed by what had just transpired. Failing to fulfill either of their drink orders he scuttles to the opposite end of the marred bar top to confer with... whomever the fuck. Nonplussed, Askaree reaches over the bar to artfully pluck a bottle of whiskey from amongst the collection perched there only to be met with a "HEY!" from the tender. Offering him naught more than the salute of a single, choice finger Askaree moves to fill her own glass nearly to the brim before depositing the bottle within reach of the rather moody gentleman to her left.

"They've called the police." The assertion is issued matter-of-factly, as if she were instead informing him that the sky was blue or that the shirt he was wearing was fucking hideous. The dregs of her tumbler are downed with a single fluid motion, the Egyptian woman sliding into her leather jacket and flicking her mane of deep brunette hair from the confines of the collar as she turns towards the door. "So unless being handcuffed and man-handled by two likely overweight, probably male officers is your kink, you may want to make yourself scarce."

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