The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.
Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn
Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.
Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.
Bartender Raylin Chike
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.
Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade
Owner Aiden Tetradore
Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford
Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.
Owner Risque Voth
Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward
It was a rare thing for either man to truly display any real affection, especially to one another and yet in that entirely rare moment even that wholly animalistic boy is given to understand some need, some instinct, to press closer to his companion in an effort of sorts to ease whatever stress existed within him. Tobias aware, on some level, as he always had been of those inner workings of his companion. The boy having spent the better part of his early formative years trailing behind Tetradore like some sort of disobedient shadow that seemed to cling so desperately to the other man while meeting most others with violence or disdain. He is attuned, near intimately so, to those emotions of his companion even if he hardly recognises such things within himself or remains wholly oblivious to those feelings in any real sense. A purr of sorts rises within his throat at that momentarily returned gesture, his tail looping about the black cat before he moves to rise, padding after his companion and away from those billowing ashes and rising sun, the idea of a carnival seeming to thrill him even despite his inability to perceive what such a thing might be, Tobias entirely prone to agreeing with Tetradore on any matter. His chosen alpha entirely faultless within his mind. The boy assured that any carnival his companion desired to attend was surely something worthy of attending, his agreement announced readily before Tetradore so announced his decision to shower and dress, that scowl of displeasure lingering upon Tobias' own features for several moments, a huff off irritability at his companion retiring to that water of clear displeasure to him before he is so allowed to choose their care for this evening.
"Tetra....be careful of....shower sharks."
Those words are uttered readily from his lips, Tobias so genuinely continuing to maintain that fear of showers and the animals he is sure prey within those sprinkled droplets, concern seeming to lace his voice all the same as he shifts from the leopard form to his human skin, the boy striding into his room but a moment later, struggling into jeans and a shirt so taken from that ever-growing pile upon the floor that Raven was so often attempting to clear. His ability to return things to his wardrobe however, appeared entirely non-existent, this a life skill the boy refused or indeed, hardly cared, to attempt to learn. Tetradore did not enforce it and as such Tobias saw no importance to it, the boy paused briefly again outside his companion's door, listening for some assurance his most beloved of friends was still alive and had not so been consumed by shower sharks before hurrying down to the garage with a clear glee.
Those fathomless dark eyes rove from one car to the next, long fingers reaching out to brush across those shiny surfaces of red, blue, green and every other colour they possessed. Cars perhaps, a love both men shared so equally even despite Tobias apparent inability to appreciate any other possession. His understanding of the importance of these vehicles seeming utterly absolute, some part of the boy entirely taken with them as any man surely was. A decidedly human part of him wholly taken with the roar of those engines and the speed with which they moved, Tobias so eternally taking his place at Tetradores side any time their cars were worked upon, handing the man spanners or wrenches (regardless as to whether he needed them or not), the boy assured he was doing as he should before taking his place in that front passenger seat. Tobias a dangerously possessive creature and of these cars, these things Tetradore so loved in turn, the man was notably protective in every sense. His companions arrival a moment later readily sees his own head turn, the deviant so having found himself occupied for those twenty three minutes with that choice presented to him, his mind turning over in that fractured fashion before one hadn't lifted to point readily at that red and black Mclaren PT GTR they had obtained. Even the staff so having given up attempting to quiz either man about where the vehicles had come from, merely accepting the pair so often brought home a new car to add to that impressive collection concealed beneath the Ark.
That shaggy-haired boy remains oblivious to the truth of his companions distress, Tobias merely aware Tetradore was unsettled in some sense and yet his own inability to correctly identify that emotion merely results in the boy seeking it alleviate that tension in the only fashion he knows how, scrambling hurriedly into that front seat, waiting with impatience for Tetradore to climb in before demanding the man go faster immediately. The fact the car had not yet even been turned on remained to be seen. Tetradore so often inclined to smile when within their cars and as such the boy merely seeks to return him to that with his demand to drive faster. Just where they are going is still lost upon the Leopard entirely as the car at last leaves the ship, that rush of speed seeming to delight the boy all the same, his own grin lacing his features, Tobias taking pleasure entirely in being away from the boat, the staff, their women and all other things. After all, some things are just for boys, he is sure, this carnival surely one of them. Those dark eyes lifted suddenly to his companion.
"When do I get...to be the driver?"
madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push