Sacrosanct contains four distinct neighborhoods, each with their own specific kind of houses and residents. Explore our districts, view lists of our citizens and enjoy our block parties!
What You'll Find Here
Anacosta Heights
Dupont Circle
Hawethorn Village
River Dale
Anacosta Heights
Situated above the daily life of the city, Anacosta Heights is a tucked away suburb featuring extravagant neo-gothic inspired mansions. The inhabitants of this neighborhood often show their overwhelming wealth with sports cars lining their long, circular driveways, large pools, and manicured gardens. The homeowners of Anacosta Heights treasure their privacy as seen by the high iron gates to the security personnel present at every entrance.
Dupont Circle
Dupont Circle is a small suburban neighborhood settled within the serene portion of the southern portion of town. These four-bedroom, single-family homes feature back yards, porches, garages, and far more breathing space then the Village offers. This neighborhood often is more family orientated and even has organized events for children and the neighborhood as a whole.
Hawethorn Village
Settled in the middle of downtown, Hawthorn Village consists of several victorian inspired row houses just off the main street. Due to it's convenience to just about everything, the village can be a tad expensive to live within. However, the residents of this neighborhood often have two to three-story townhouses, often with a one to two-car garage. Many of the houses feature bay windows and/or rooftop terraces with a small fenced-in 'yard'.
River Dale
River Dale primarily consists of apartments that, despite their age and industrial appearing interior, still hold to the Victorian history that permeates the town. These apartments are often the cheapest option and sport scuffed, older wooden floors, open floor plans, visible beams, and the occasional brick wall.
show me where forever dies
Posted on December 11, 2014 by Alekai Evero
 His 'feelings' for Serafina are not something he particularly wants targeted nor discussed, the irritable blonde utterly determined to ignore whatever lingering emotions seem to present themselves at the mere thought of the raven-haired witch whom had so seen fit to plague his thoughts of late far more then he is ever willing to admit. What he feels about her, good, bad or otherwise however, is hardly something he is willing to indulge the other man with, his own words little more then an agitated mutter that proffers a response which earns the warlock a golden-eyed glare in return. Was it really that obvious? He had, or at least, so he had believed, done rather a good job of keeping the girl at arms length, rarely seeing fit to indulge her whims and desire for his presence, the party having perhaps been the one and only time he had even allowed himself to touch the young woman and yet that this other mad had so easily identified what Azrael himself remains in denial about only further seeks to darken his already bleak and stormy mood. He had never been....good with women, at least, not in the manner so many other men seemed to manage. Maybe it was simply his upbringing, so many years it had been and yet still he remains firmly of the belief that there are....steps to be taken in regards to a woman, a process to be followed, a series of rules that had since become so utterly outdated they are very near obsolete and yet it is a part of himself- his human self, he simply could not seem to relinquish. Courting however- is really not what it used to be, his efforts with Serafina so far rather fantastically hampered by his own barriers along with his inability to truly display anything other then the cold exterior for which he has become near infamous, his apathetic, brooding manner near legendary amongst his own kind and the source of far more then one joke. The world has moved on perhaps and yet, so much of him still resides in a place and time he truly wishes he had never left. It is perhaps this same longing of sorts for a life he had been forced at the hands of others to relinquish that sees his own words continue with that bitter edge, offering the barest of glimpses into his own small world behind that indifferent façade and yet one that seems to result in a far less acceptable response from the warlock. He hardly cares for the magic users personal opinions on matter he does not and can not understand nor ever will, the differences in their veritable existences not something Azrael is willing to attempt to teach despite the other mans evident ignorance, the warlock content to continue to prattle on about his own thoughts regarding fate and who may or may not hold a right to judge over anyone else. One hand moves to lift in almost exasperation, as if Davante is little more then a misbehaving and exhausting child and indeed to some extent he very well is, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as Azrael makes some attempt at a sigh. "For someone so determined to go on about a right to judge you're a fairly judgemental fellow yourself. You don't know anything about my life so lets not pretend you do. Why don't you do us all a favour and just shut up for thirty seconds, hmm?" It is a warning of sorts, those less patient notes once more seeming to slip into into the tone within his voice, evidently unwilling to hear the warlock continue to go on about who did or did not have the right to judge others or his own personal beliefs in regards to fate. He never would understand, any attempts to make him do so would be nothing short of a waste of his time. Even he does not understand, not all of it, not even after all this time- so many of his own questions left unanswered about this life he had been forced into- a delayed death sentence handed down upon when he simply should have died. The silence to which he has mercifully been afforded lasts only so long, the thanks upon Davante's lips seeing the blonde Hunter's head raise in an evident moment of surprise, golden eyes resting upon his injured adversary once more in the wake of his own light display and falling ash as it settles about....what was once Davante's bedroom. Oh well- it had hardly been all that nicely decorated regardless. The movement of the other man's hands- reaching for the cigarette pack, sees those golden amber eyes follows, head nodding slightly in recognition of the other mans momentarily muttered thanks, Azrael merely content to leave it at that before his features manage a small frown of sorts. "Davante...." One eye lifts ever so slightly, the Hunter continuing to recline against the far wall, the manner in which his name is spoken clearly demanding of the warlocks attention, waiting for the man's gaze to find him once more before Azrael simply disappears, reappearing directly before the man, another flicker of motion seeing him return to his place against the wall- the packet of cigarettes now within his own hand, the one Davante had been smoking resting within the fingers of the other, lifting it now to his own lips now to take a drag. "I am not letting you live so you can slowly kill yourself by smoking." The barest hint of a smirk hardly pleasant seems to manage to find it's way upon his features, the hunter easily exhaling the smoke from the cigarette Davante had momentarily enjoyed. "It can hardly hurt me however so I think I'll keep them- thank you." A momentary chuckle seems to vibrate within his chest, the man taking another drag as one leg folds across the other, easing the weight from upon his injured limb even further, twinging now from his brief display of speed before mention of the light sabres seems to earn the seated warlock another look. He has never truly discussed his own powers with another, much less ever had them....complimented, eyes narrowed slightly at the tail end of his sentence before offering a half-hearted shrug of sorts. "It is a....newer power, I can bend the light to any shape, the sabres are merely what I handle best." He simply allowed the words to trail off, entirely unsure as to why he was offering the warlock such conversations, the man rarely choosing to indulge them in anything beyond the pleasure he takes in slaughtering them, abruptly seeming to decide this is entirely enough conversation as the other man seemed to struggle to right himself- his apparent display of health seeming to have run out, the blonde taking momentary pleasure in this before his own side seemed to twinge as it healed, the barest flinch seeming to touch his own frame as he exhaled a ring of smoke once more. Davante at least, seemed to have the sense to actually understand the implications of his fucking ridiculous egotism. "Yes- it is. I won't report your weakness to them but that is the one and only favour you are getting from me, I warned you, if you fuck it up then it is your fault- I am not going to stop them. After your display at that fucking party they have been watching you." One hand moves easily to reach into the pocket of his jeans, pulling the iphone from his pocket, finger swiping across the screen momentarily before the Hunter moves to step forward, turning the screen towards the injured warlock, displaying what is very clearly....his own file. "They have almost everything about you, your address, where you work- even your siblings, Davante. They might easily prove to be a better target- just like anyone your care about, do you understand?" How long would it take, really, before the dickhead before him got Sera put on that list as well? He moved to withdraw the phone from the mans vision, twisting it back around to himself, lip quirking slightly upward once more. "I do like this entry about you though, it's recorded under personal information on our files: Davante Dorian, a self-righteous prick of a warlock of questionable intelligence. Hmm. Self-righteous prick- I can say it, so it must be true. And you thought I had no sense of humour. I find that funny." It is merely a...perk of his own ability, or inability, the golden-haired young man unable to lie and us such resulting in the undeniable fact that everything he says at least maintains a slither of truth. "I think we're done for tonight, do you have any more sarcasm for me or shall I take my leave?" |
Replies
- Don't fret precious, I'm here - By Davante Dorian on December 12, 2014 at 5:58 PM