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

ice, ice baby


Posted on September 02, 2016 by Rixon Leifsson
North
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The rain was entirely unexpected, the violet gaze of the man peering upward at the sky in a fashion almost critical, that mop of snowy-white hair so falling from his gaze for the barest of moments before he lowered his head once more- that vivid gaze so concealed again. A mutter of disdain finds his lips as that drizzle seems to increase, Frost tucking his hands into his pockets and so hunching his shoulders against the impending downpour. He had felt no storm within the air, Frost perhaps as any animal in that regard even despite the lengths he so often went to in an effort to remove himself from his equine form- the man capable, still, of sensing an impending shift in the weather. This one however, had come from near nowhere. The man turns easily from the street and into the park, the expensive Northern Side of town so assuring this park was as immaculately maintained as many of the streets themselves, each hedge trimmed and field of grass mowed to an agreed upon length. It was the sheer...conformity of it that perhaps seemed to so displease the man. Neatness was one thing, order another and yet this was too...structured, those neatly ordered rows of flowers within their perfectly contained garden beds so displeasing him. For now, at least, he turned his mind from it, fixating his thoughts instead upon navigating around those who ran for cover from the rain, the man so effortlessly gliding amongst them near unnoticed.

If he had, perhaps, so learned anything from the land of his birth it was an ability to blend- even when that stark white of his hair so stood out amongst the plethora of brunettes and blondes that hurried past him. The rain seems to increase all the more the further into the park the stallion seems to progress- the man very near drenched by the time he passes the park bench and the girl nestled upon it. He feels her mind before he hears her soft sobbing, those thoughts.....not unfamiliar to him and yet truly it had been months since he had seen the woman- Frost content enough to simply continue past. Crying women were hardly his concern, his ever-frigid demeanour unwilling to shift as he simply continues to stride past her. The man halted only by the scent that so seems to find him in that moment- this memory far more...potent, one tied too with the thoughts of her own mind that broadcast so readily to himself far more easily then any complete stranger. Minds he had touched before, after all, tended to find him far more readily. Lips he had kissed so too tended to leave some lingering memory upon him.

"Scarlett."

It is far more statement then question, her name uttered if only to assure himself of it as he pauses upon the grass- that ever indifferent form shifted towards her. This was not entirely the woman he remembered. The girl he had known had been the very picture of joy in a way the man found wholly baffling if only for the hope she seemed to possess in the world- a trait he himself had long since abandoned for his mere acceptance of the fact it hardly existed. Still, the one overly excitable woman was a far cry from the blonde girl whom sobbed into her hands. The rain, now, perhaps making far more sense as his own features shifted slightly in some emotion that remained so distinctly undefined. He moves easily then to step before her, seating himself silently beside her, gaze moving over her form for several moments though what he searched for remains to be seen- his gaze turned to the park around them once more. Those cool, baritone lyrics offered at last though his gaze remains ahead.

"It is you, then, that I might blame for my drenched clothing."

His features remain near expressionless, the truth of his emotions eternally concealed, guarded as always and yet the ghost of a simper lingers momentarily upon his lips before he turns his attention to the woman beside him- at last allowing what little of his gaze could be seen rest upon her own.

"Why, might I ask, are we crying today?"



Frostbite
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