West

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.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

you were a kindness when i was a stranger, tobias


Posted on June 18, 2014 by mattheus burke
West


i live in a city sorrow built
it's in my honey, it's in my milk
"Syn." It seemed like a stupid name for a supernatural establishment, in his opinion. Then again, in life, Matt hadn't exactly been the type to frequent warehouse-clubs and blacklight rooms, so any kind of opinion on places of Syn's ilk was to be taken with a grain of salt. Matt had been a coffee-shop-and-bookstore kind of person, likely to frequent a venue like Syn only if a particularly tempting musician was there. Anywhere without at least a small selection of craft beers was right out. After his turning, he'd loosened up a little at his creator's earnest behest; he'd been made for company, and company went places, did things with each other, or so Andrei would remind him, frequently. Who was he to deny him?

His maker's death left a hole in his heart he was still struggling to fill. Two months and a move hadn't been enough to keep his thoughts from wandering to dark places, and as much as he'd wanted to keep to himself he was finding that neither holing up in his apartment to do the necessary repairs nor haunting unassuming little places in the city were doing anything to ease the pain in his heart. He had to distract himself, really distract himself, and what better place was there to do that then... well... here?

Matt's dark eyes peered up at the illuminated red neon, the buzz of the lights overamplified in his sensitive ears. He would have to work, really work, to keep himself in check here, and hopefully the focus required to keep the ceaseless murmuring of a hundred bodies' minds at bay in his own head would be enough to take his mind off his maker's death and his own cold loneliness. He wouldn't be doing much dancing, he assumed, and if he really wanted to keep his focus he wouldn't drink too much, so why was he here? He'd people watch, he told himself, as he had been doing from his modest coupe in the parking lot just as he'd arrived. It was a truly random group of people, seemed like, and non-people alike that made it to Syn this evening. Hopefully no one would notice a deadbeat vampire among the much more interesting crowd.

For a moment he lingered in the lot outside, his focus on his breathing and fortifying his mind against what would be a hurricane of thoughts. They would not all be coherent, but that was alright; the storm of mental processes would be enough to bury him if he let it. Matt steeled himself against the coming onslaught and stepped forward. He was dressed simply - dark jeans and a black t-shirt; entirely too unassuming for the usual club fare, he thought with a frown. He wouldn't fit in, but that was alright. He'd be alert, at the very least, to any negative thoughts cast his way. He'd have to be, or else he'd drown. Without entirely wanting to be here, Matt made his way into the club, feeling the pulse of the music thrum deep in his hollow chest and smiling a little. It had been some time since he'd been in this environment, full of bodies and less than legal substances, he was sure. No voices but his own in his head, and the pressure to keep it that way was proving less than he'd originally imagined. Good. He'd head to the bar, he thought, order a drink, and find a comfortable spot to go unnoticed. It would be a good evening.

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