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 February 08, 2015 by R. METCALF
North


The unabashedly juvenile response received from the brooding gentleman adheres with near perfection to the petulance he had proffered upon the first meeting of witch and warlock. A veritable infant parading about within the particularly elaborate guise of adulthood, the archtype of the proverbial man-child if Rowena had ever before lain eyes upon one... an assertion of his presumed fault of character that's entertainment value is far eclipsed by irritation as it churns idly within the blonde woman's gut. No humor, it would seem, does she pilfer from his words, Davante himself having claimed it all in the manner of some metaphorical glutton; Rowena herself is merely left to peruse him with the same practiced scrutiny in which she does all things, a sizzling line drawn from the unfortunately familiar man at her side to what she may only presume is the remainder of his... posse. However dismal and decidedly unimpressive said posse was suspected to be.

The verbal joust sent flying in the direction of the poised sorceress has every bit the effect of a wayward feather colliding with a brick-laden wall. A slow and indulgent draw is taken from her ever-dwindling martini before Rowena eyes him in a manner that is unapologetically deadpan. "Apparently, the same blithering idiot who chose that outfit for you," she quips levelly, her facade betraying not even the barest traces of humor or the lightheartedness of jest as the dainty glass is once more deposited back unto the polished surface of the bar. More apparent still is the realization that their singular encounter apart from the present has instilled within the haughty warlock no dampened fervor for such verbal banter. It is a game, admittedly, that plays to the decided quick wit of both individuals; and one that, for the moment at least, she is somewhat willing to indulge him in despite the pettiness inherent in the charade.

Yet just as Rowena turns to impart upon him some impish rhetorical side-swipe in order to further bait the grotesquely childish man, the richness of another masculine voice falls into the writhing smog betwixt them. "Pardon the interruption, but... can I buy you a drink?" The insurmountable heft of Rowena's glances fall upon the man of earlier who, it seemed, was no longer capable of finding contentment in merely looking at her. The pale sage of her eyes lingers for an inappropriately lengthy moment upon Davante's before a leisurely blink brings them to fall heavily upon the gentleman who now stands at their backs. Though the smile he proffers is assuming and falsely devilish, Rowena's own macabre simper stretches against her sharply pleasing features. It is, after all, naught but the readying of an arrow against the pleasant curve of a bow...

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