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
Eternity
The newly opened Eternity is an expensive fine dining restaurant nestled high upon the hills of the North - providing it a breathtaking view of the city below. The award-winning chefs at Eternity collaborate directly with local farmers and producers to source the freshest ingredients for its ever-changing menu. The staff at Eternity pride themselves on serving each customer's unique dietary needs - from the vampiric to the mortal races. Reservations are strongly encouraged as Eternity is frequently booked to capacity.
The VooDoo Room
Located in the heart of the North, the Voodoo Room is the spirits lover's destination of choice in Sacrosanct. The Voodoo room is a craft cocktail bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. Nestled among the William Morris wallpaper, gold, and wood, you will find a new kind of neighborhood cocktail bar. One where hospitality and skill work in concert. With intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe, the Voodoo room will keep you coming back for more. Guided by the mantra of providing a one of a kind, high-end experience, the Voodoo Room's mixologists meet the highest standards with a fantastically themed selection of cocktails and specials.
The Witchery
Dark, Gothic, and thoroughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's lavish, theatrical suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence, and luxury. From the Vestry to the Library and the Armory, the suites of the Witchery are nothing short of sensually romantic. A stay at the Witchery is not complete without dining in the rich baroque surroundings of the original oak-paneled hotel or among the elegant candle-lit charms of the Secret Garden. Whether you stay or dine, The Witchery is an unforgettably magical experience.
Zey... Zey call to uz..
Posted on October 26, 2014 by Aleksandra Risben
ex: Don't vorry, eevery ting be vine.
> Don't worry, everything will be fine (of course, Russians skip the will).
Eef I could hayv a vord vit chu
> If I could have a word with you
It is there she appears, cloaked in black, vibrant red locks curled and spiraled into a mess of tangles lying down her back, under the light of a street lamp. She hears the soft step of Oleg, stalking the shadows. Her vibrant emerald orbs slip from his gaze, an eerie smirk placed on her lips, glancing at the dark streets only lit with electricity. "Zay ver nawt egzpecting uhz, noh?"
Her heels click as she reveals herself on the sidewalk instead of lingering in the blades of the park. Oleg lets out a hushed sigh as he too, moves from the darkness. His coat, orange, beaming under the lights as his dark spots take on a much more dainty expression. His own pair of green eyes narrow at the smell of humans.
Downtown is empty, so it appears. The nightlife residing in the comfort of bars and rooms filled with champagne glasses and kegs. Aleksandra prefers a much more lively evening. "Zay vill learn dat vee important, don't vorry."
The slouching Jaguar just licks his lips in response. His own claws clicking the blackened road. It isn't until Aleksandra finds a bench she decides to catch her breath. She lowers herself, crossing her legs and pupping her pink bubblegum lazily. Oleg stops and looks at her with the same impatient feeling. Her head cocks, looking at his eyes, red strands falling off her face. "Vaht?"
She crosses her arms at her partner, as if she is supposed to make trouble just appear. "Vee do nawt know deez people, vee vait. Make ack-vaintances. Foolesh cat." Though she feels his ache for a purpose. His thirst for stirring a pot. She will. He will help. They must wait.
He slinks back into the shadows, though not far enough that she will get sick from his absence. He knows the boundaries, she has argued with him numerous times before about it. Finally he had been trained. She licks her nude lips and taps her left hands fingers against the wooden arm rest. Her nails painted black, not a ring to her finger or bracelet to her wrist. There will come a time when her true talent will be needed. When someone will need someone else to air their dirty laundry. Isn't she just good at that?
It isn't that she is cruel. She is just cold. She has no heart. No love. No lust. No warm small spec of sympathy. Her purpose on earth was never to host parties with classy wine and gossip (discretely) of their friends who happened to be absent. Call her a bitch, call her self absorbed. In the end it all leads to honesty.
"Oleg!" Her Russian tone turns sour as she begins to feel the ache in her stomach, the protest of her soul, "too fahr," a roll of her R as she tries to shake the feeling. He must have heard her (and saved the hiss of his throat) because it soon disappears as quick as it came. And she waits. For something. Anything.