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.

i tried so hard to try that night


Posted on December 31, 2014 by Alekai Evero
North
photo e28a331a-556b-45cd-bb26-03671d1488fa_zpsa12f294f.jpg

It is with no small measure of self control that the often irritable blonde manages to hold his fire, the tense, hard line to his jaw and very nearly fisted hands hinting at the violence he struggled to contain all the same. It has....lessened in Serafina's presence and yet the rapidly expanding group of supernatural's proceeded to push only further and further against his nature, the desire to hunt a rabid hunger within himself that seems to very near seer at his veins with its wretched insistence until his mind is forced to focus on the wolf alone. Her snap is disregarded entirely, the creature little more than a vile dog that would be as easy to eliminate as a pigeon upon a rooftop, the mongrel allowed to live only because it seemed to be of some value to the raven haired women whom often seemed to invade his thoughts in a manner almost as unwelcome as the words that spilled next from the wolfs lips, amber golden eyes narrowed with dark intent as the slightest twitch within his fingers perhaps indicates yet another urge to reach for a weapon quelled within him. He had displayed his willingness to fire at the masquerade ball, the majority of those present having been witness to his display and yet it would seem few of them are willing to acknowledge the manner in which he had purposely missed so many of his victims- a favour he is not likely to facilitate again. Raven is merely ignored for now, the man no longer holding any interest in the wolf as his gaze returns to the vampires that exist before him and the injured Were within the arms of the male creature whom seems foolish enough to attempt to poke at his already tentatively restrained volatility.

Damon's words earn the vampire little more than the quirk of his lip, a deliberately dismissive gesture and yet one that seems to hint at some layer of vague amusement beneath as the Hunter offers a shrug of his well-toned figure within the darkness. It is the discovery of his newest power, perhaps, that has resulted in the Hunter's almost total disregard for the vampire race, his newest ability facilitating a means for the blond to harness light itself in every form and even without the touch of the sun's rays, Azrael entirely capable of evaporating the vampire before him like the mere dirt that he is, the Hunter the very embodiment of light within the darkness and yet for now he chooses to merely offer this ghost of a simper in reply. Damon however, has surely earned himself a visit within the next few days, the other man so silently added to his list of those better off 'put down' rather then left to room the streets. The red-haired women he had met some nights previously seems to draw the faintest hint of surprise from the man, her excessive need to care once more seeming to cause the faintest licker of pity within the man. It is unfortunate, truly, that a women such as that, one so infinitely and obviously....good, would soon enough be reduced to the blood thirsty leech all her species eventually become when the battle to retain their humanity eventually weighed to heavily upon them and brought with it a downward spiral of blood fuelled rage. It is these very breakdowns Azrael has taken to waiting for, his own perpetually long life at least seeming to have befit the man with patience enough to outlast his prey. They all wished for death- in the end, the one and continued illusive state that seemed to elude even him no matter how many times it should have been brought upon him.

The delicate lyrics of the black-haired witch whom so seemed to ensnare his attention briefly saw those golden amber eyes return to her as she saw fit to...chastise him like a child for daring to raise his voice at her pet, as if the injuries of this Bethal were somehow of import to him- her words resulting in the smallest of frowns upon his features and yet the slightest...softening somewhere beneath his steely gaze. She was forever doomed, it would seem- to remind him entirely of the one he had already lost. This barest of moments is evaporated from upon his ever youthful features as near quickly as they had existed, the man refusing to allow any glimmer of....fondness for a witch to be deduced by those around him. The Council is already displeased enough with him, allowing them a reason to further make themselves a nuisance upon his existence, especially a reason as horrific and forbidden as even the barest hint of affection for his prey is something he simply will not allow. The pressure of so many supernaturals within his immediate definity continues to result in what is very near a blossoming headache that exacts itself within his skull, fingernails near biting into the flesh of his palm as he continues to attempt to restrain himself. For all his bullheadedness he is hardly foolish. One Were is injured and yet two vampires, a witch and another Were are odds he does not particularly like, capable of taking out one, perhaps two and yet depending upon the swiftness of the aid delivered to the others he is...ill pleased with his own chances for survival, this alone seeming to stay his hand- at least for now, Serafina's evident affection for this...road kill allowing those golden eyes to lift beneath that veil of white gold hair once more.

Her injuries are easy enough to deduce, consistent with the accident in which she had found herself, the blondes gaze lingering upon her feminine form with a clearly...practised ease and while the very nature of her species brought nothing short of revulsion to his mind there is a part of him- perhaps, that seems to take a curiosity in Bethal. His human years are long behind him, those days barely a glimmer within his memory, days he so often choose to forget with the same bitterness that has plagued his metaphorical after-life for so many years and yet some things are not forgotten. He had held another job once, all those years ago, when based entirely upon the prospect of helping people, of saving lives, rather then taking them. He had been a doctor once, a surgeon, the youngest in his field and while the years had seen medicine shape and change perhaps beyond his reach- he knows entirely how to save this woman just as he knows assuredly how to kill her and yet-

He chooses to do nothing. Saving her is simply not within him- not anymore.

Serafina reaching for the woman's neck merely sees his eyes follow, believing her to be attempting to assess the girls vital signs until her hands clasp about the amulet around her neck, a sigh of sorts forced from his lips. Witches and their fucking jewellery. His movement is swift enough, appearing suddenly behind Serafina, eyes narrowed briefly towards Damon in evident warning that he will hardly tolerate disobedience from either leech in this moment before his fingers reach for Sera's own, hesitating suddenly, catching himself before actually allowing an contact, gesturing instead towards the injured woman's throat and the place a pulse should be found.

"You might find checking for her pulse rate is going to be far more useful then checking that rock around her neck. It should be at least sixty, or lower- though I suspect it is far higher, if not irregular. Your friend here is probably going into shock. Something warmer than a vampire might...prevent her imminent death and give you enough time to do whatever it is your kind do to heal- otherwise I can euthanize her for you."

His nature, it would seem, when surrounded by others is inclined to something far less friendly, the Hunter determined to prevent even the slightest hint of his affection for the Witch being made clear, his usual hostility evidently within fine form tonight, eyes resting upon Sera's own a moment as he merely steps back and away from her- before a pair of gloves seem to very near launch from the witches bag and onto the sidewalk, reflexes evidently shifting rapidly in response as the knife appears within the Hunter's hand almost instantaneously as if he fully intends to stab the....possessed gloves.

"What the fuck are those?!"





Alekai Azrael Evero
HTML by Apollymi

Replies