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

MASQUERADE; sit behind the mask where you control your world


Posted on October 15, 2014 by ISOLT GRIFFIN
North


What otherworldly force had somehow coaxed her here, a tantalizing finger curled and beckoning, is an enigma. This place, so foreign in both its location and its grandeur, seems a glaring spotlight shone upon the axiomatic certainty that there exists no niche for her in this place. Traversing a matter of blocks had seen her step into what seemed an entirely separate world. Though Isolt may have looked the part of a character in this glamorous production swathed in the midnight gown that clung to every feminine curve... it was naught but a mythomane tale. A salacious farce. The truth of her implicit lie evidenced in the subtle downward curve at the brims of plump ruby lips and the maelstrom of self-doubt that writhes and bubbles as some waking leviathan beyond a pair of depthless azure eyes. Harley would have handled this better, would have sliced through the crushing heft of anxiety and haughty atmospheric ceremony with a few effortless swipes of her infamous razor tongue; and oh how she longed for her companion's venom in moments such as this. It would have made this easier, it would have made it feel right.

"Miss." The whispered address pierces the miasma of Isolt's distraction, blue eyes flittering to the smartly-dressed gentleman beside her, arm extended to hold open one of a pair of ornately-chiseled oaken doors so that she might pass through to the festivities that await just beyond the wooden veil. Music, laughter, and the pleasant chatter of tinkling glasses culminate to form the ambiance of the scene that awaits her, a parade of masked and dancing couples and methodically mulling bodies betraying that the young auburn-haired vampire has arrived late to his particular soiree.

The Witchery's fabled gothic charm gleams from the facets of every fixture, emanates from every bar top and expertly-crafted furnishing in an amalgamation of old-world elegance. Bartenders and wait staff bustle about the busy space in a flourish of pressed linen and spotless silver platters brimming with delicacies not oft afforded by those from Isolt's portion of Sacrosanct. More enchanting perhaps than the aura of grandeur that rolls in waves from every polished inch of the space are the masks... a veritable sea of feathers, gems, lace, and ribbon. Most of them far beyond the nearly shameless simplicity of the dainty black mask that cloaks Isolt's façade.

She moves pointedly to the edge of the crowd, the dastardly fingers of an anticipatory phantom chill caressing the curvature of her spine; a chill that has little to do with the sloping and exposed back of her dress. Delicate fingers move in deft nervousness to gather the waterfall of flame that is her wealth of auburn curls and bring them over a single shoulder, forgetting for the moment that the petals of tattooed roses may now be seen peeking from upon her shoulder blade. Crystalline eyes scan the crowd, looking for what she cannot rightly say. A familiar face, perhaps, in this whirlwind of the sensational and unfamiliar.



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