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.

ice, ice baby


Posted on August 24, 2015 by Rixon Leifsson
North
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He can hear...something. Whispers, mutterings, something akin to soft murmurs that seem to hum inside his ears. It is perhaps the first time he has truly noticed that these whispers, at least, seem to revolve around himself. Almost like a conscious voice musing softly inside his mind and yet he is assured these thoughts are not his own. He has never before truly considered the beauty of his own gaze, their hue and tone, as rich and vibrant as they may be, a genetic fault of sorts- a mutation passed on from his mother's side and a such he has thought little beyond them. Yet in this quiet moment he can hear another's....opinion of him, his gaze lingering upon the woman before him though his features remain as always impassive, his true thoughts guarded from view and gaze mostly hidden beneath that shock of white forelock. It is rare indeed for the man to offer anything other then indifference and yet perhaps this is simply the result of his own life until this point. A need to guard himself having proven more potent than any desire to express the truth of his own thoughts- at least for now. The man remaining silent as he continues to consider his own conclusions in this.

Her response gleans little from him save for a nod of sorts, seeming to accept her answer without argument- though he has already begun to consider each answer she gives, his mind ever calculating- forever given to analyse those before him, seeking weakness within them or a reason to believe they are worth his time beyond casual conversation. So few, after all, ever managed to maintain his interest. If anything- this girl had at least proven to have more spine then many, her posture having remained firm as he circled loosely about her, letting the violet of his gaze drift smoothly along her figure from each angle. She was a pretty thing and so blonde too- by far his more favoured of the tones and yet such things were so very irrelevant if she proved to be like so many of the other women he had met since arriving in this city. Weak, spineless creatures. There is a fine line between appropriate submission and cowardice and truly he seeks the former. The women from his homeland were strong of mind and body and yet so very aware of their place within society. The women here so often tended to overstep that line and yet so some extent that too amused him no end. He enjoys the dominance some of them display, the authority they command- provided they do not attempt to command him. The confidence in this woman, so far, is a pleasing thing as he offers his own words. Casual, easily spoken and yet already he simply begins to sow those seeds of doubt within her mind in regards to the other pack. She has already met Nadya- or so it would seem, the other woman's name seeming to drift about in the girls thoughts to be plucked so skilfully from it by the equine though once more he offers no inclination that he has pilfered such details. Indeed- he is surprised at himself, this newer power he has only just truly begun to discover....truly tantalizing.

If Nadya had already dug her claws into this one, perhaps it was simply a waste of his time to indulge her further and yet he simply chooses to disregard such things for now. Nadya could be outdone and undone evidently, memories of the woman's rapid breathing beneath his lips and hands a memory he is rather satisfied to recall even if she had fled mere moments later- her thoughts conflicted, it would seem and yet for now at least the equine cares little to dwell upon it. Regardless of this young woman's standing in pack or as a loner she may yet prove to be a valuable resource, a 'friend' as they say and he is assured he could always do with more of such things. His head nodded once more in response to her words as he simply moves to stride past her and towards the Café's the line the other end of the street, pausing briefly to wait, one eye lifting ever so slightly in anticipation before the woman proceeded to scurry along behind. Such a good little girl. She falls into step effortlessly beside him, his name once more seeming to vibrate upon muted whispers as she seems to....consider the name itself?

A frown of sorts passes his features, attempting to grasp those muted tones and perceive them. It is hardly the first time one has wondered about his name and surely not to be the last- her voice spoke aloud distracting him from his concentration once more- her thoughts seeming vague and scattered the moment his concentration fractures, the barest hint of a frown the only inclination of his internal struggle now.

"Scar it is then- I favour shorter names."

It is easier, shorter than her full calling and as such he settles upon it before speaking once more in those seem, cool, even tones though his gaze remains focused ahead. His words seeming like an afterthought perhaps.

"Frost is a shorthand name given to me by my father, my birth name was given to me by my mother, however, in my culture we do not offer that to any outside our family or those with whom we share a significant or close relationship. My name within my own language is also near impossible for those born outside my homeland to say and as such I no longer bother with it save for necessary formalities."

It is surely an answer to her question of sorts, even though it was one unasked- the man seemingly content to offer this slither of information- more then he is given to share with most and yet one offered all the same as he moves towards the nearest Café. The sudden darkening of the sky above sees the man glance momentarily upward, eyes narrowed somewhere beneath that forelock of thick hair, the glance she offers him upon reaching the café a momentary indication of her skills. Skills that seem to please him.

"Illviðri."

It is barely more than a murmur upon his lips, the word uttered within his own language as he holds the door open for her to pass, easily sliding himself into the nearest chair a moment later as the rain above seems to very near explode from the over-heavy clouds to thunder against the earth in a manner the man seems to find wholly satisfying. The barest hint of a simper tracing his features in pleasure before what can be seen of his gaze returns to her own.

"Can you create a storm, the atmosphere, the wind- without the rain? Or can you not control the formation of the moisture?"

It is a specific question, an odd one perhaps and yet his attention remains upon her all the same with expectancy as the still-yawning waitress brings a pot coffee- his hand reaching eagerly for the mug to pull it towards him before his attention fixated upon the jar of cubed sugar before him. Of all the things in which he exercises control, it is the control over his more.....animalistic desire that he favours the most and yet the occasional weak point is given to express itself all the same- his desire for sugar cubes, a distinctly equine fault, is one he cannot resist nor makes any attempt to do so as several are taken from the jar.

"If you can create a storm- while preventing the downpour that follows I should be interested, after this, to.....further explore your talent if you would be willing? It intrigues me."

He simply moves to lean easily back within his chair now, coffee brought smoothly to his lips as the scent of food being prepared began to fill the air. It was not as...pleasing as the Inner Sanctum, Frost having become used to Alexander, his own....chosen Hunter and yet for now this place was satisfactory. He pauses to take another sip of coffee, words coming abruptly once more in that same cool, chilled tone of deceptive calm- designed entirely now to catch her off guard.

"Tell me, Scar- why do you think I need a hair-cut, hmm?"



Frostbite
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