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.
i think i know enough of hate
Posted on October 27, 2015 by Rixon Leifsson
 He does not particularly find he cares how long it takes the girl to get to her feet, or how many times she tumbles to the ground, the large pale stallion continuing to simply stand there, over her, gaze expectant upon her- offering no source of comfort nor congratulations until she manages to achieve something worthy of his praise. He expects she will fall more often then not- the girl the very image of a newborn foal, little more then legs and uncoordinated attempts and indeed for a moment the man is momentarily......struck, with the barest flicker of nostalgia, of some memory so far repressed and unacknowledged that he had very near forgotten it existed. He remembered, once, watching one young foal attempt to stand in a manner so very similar to this, feeling the barest hint of pride when it had- and sooner then some of the others in its age group. Then again perhaps that was to be expected, he himself had learned to walk early- was it unreasonable to believe his son should be any different? He dismisses the past easily now as Calliel falls again, he had no time or care for memories that were of utterly no use to him and as such he refused to entertain them further, fixated now upon the other equine and her attempts to stand- this time managing a few shaken steps in his direction. If she truly had any instinct at all, she should be able to run within the hour- though he hardly believed her capable of that. She had been made after all, not born and her instincts in all regards are sure to come later, to grow steadily rather than appear as hurriedly as they might a Were-born child. When at last she manages to reach him he allows his own muzzle to extend forward, touching it to her own in a distinctly equine gesture that allows an exchange of breath and air and scent, willing enough to offer her this small moment of comfort for her efforts. She was progressing faster then he had anticipated in the least. Perhaps she would prove to be of use after all, besides, he did not entirely dislike her- the girl intelligent, quick of mind and perhaps faintly amusing on some level. Besides, he had been the cause of her transformation and for now is willing to accept some responsibility for that- at least until her value could be assessed though he truly doubts there will be need to be rid of her. For a moment longer he remains silent, allowing the violet of his gaze to linger upon her, running over each bruise and scrape she has managed to earn for her efforts tonight, her for continuing to shift closer to his own- some instincts, it would seem, already having taken hold within the girl. It was only natural, after all, that she would find herself holding some desire to be near to him though he remains well aware that she herself is surely oblivious to such things. You did very well. It is simple, short and yet no less meaningful, the stallion at last moving to draw his muzzle away, stepping across the straw covered floor and towards the door, one hoof moving to strike out towards it, colliding with the solid wood as another forefoot lashes out a mere moment later- the door giving way now to swing open and lead into the night. Follow me now, if you can. He steps forward, heavy feathered hooves clopping loudly upon the earth, one after the other in a steady, easy rhythm. He goes no faster then a walk, assured the girl would follow if only because she had nowhere else to go and yet he suspected perhaps- instinct would send her hurrying after him as nature itself intended. Hmm, perhaps another horse, a mare at that, would be more useful then he anticipated in some regards. His pelt, far brighter in the dark stands out against the moonlight where her own seems to blend far more readily with the darkness. Long, thick tail flicks against his flanks as he waits for her to find a place beside him, wandering forward a few strides again, waiting, repeating the action, letting her stumble and trip as much as she should need- for he could do little about it otherwise though he simply kept moving. She would learn to keep up in time, he simply offered her no other choice in the matter, heading towards his own home now. Just keep moving, in time it will become instinctive, you will walk without having to think about it. Tell me, instead, how do you feel now? Better? Worse? Are you still in pain. To focus on herself, inwardly, would draw her mind away from attempting to walk- it was a distraction, an effort to pull her mind from one struggle to another though he sees no need to voice it. You can spend the night at my house, perhaps a few nights, at least until you recover your human form- then we will speak about what to do with you. |
Replies
- It’s Unmistakable - By Calliel Alosi on October 31, 2015 at 9:13 PM
- to say that for destruction - By Rixon Leifsson on November 06, 2015 at 12:50 PM
- God I want to Dream again - By Calliel Alosi on December 08, 2015 at 8:24 PM
- ice is also great, and would suffice - By Rixon Leifsson on December 20, 2015 at 1:29 AM