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
we built this city on broken glass
That near ghost of amused readily seemed to find his features then, his lip lifting slightly at the side in some vague display of amusement at her assurance her attention span was limited and that she hardly had the time to learn how to use that washing machine. Frost, it seemed, rarely capable of emotion outside of those small, singular flashes he allowed to paint his features in those passing moments. That ever-present mask almost too-adapt at keeping others from whatever turned beneath that surface. The stallion, slowly, attempting to loosen his hold upon a shield he could not be convinced he did not need entirely. At least- not until it was over. Not until he had taken care of those matters in his homeland he came ever-closer mastering each day. He would leave Malia in charge then and yet for now he saw little need to mention such a thing. His thoughts instead inclined to the woman alone and whatever it was that seemed to chew at her own thoughts. Thoughts he could readily see if he chose, the man holding some inclination of just what had bothered her all the same as he readily dismissed those idle worries of laundry tonight. Frost capable of that....care when he chose. Even if he was hardly familiar with just how to exact it at times. Malia's constant disappearance a far more pressing concern then unclean socks. That surprise on her features hardly missed as he shifted to lean against that bannister railing of the landing, his gaze resting upon her now as his arms folded across his chest. That white forelock of hair falling to the side, affording her that rarely seen view of both his eyes that evening. That singular question posed to her then even if he had already known the answer.
He was hardly surprised by that response he was given. Familiarity was a....comfort. In some sense. Even for himself though he hardly cared to admit it. It was an instinct of both animal and man to seek out what they knew. Especially when the world around them seemed ever-changing and- given all that had occurred within Malia's own existence over those past few months it was perhaps unsurprising that the woman might seek that stability of sorts her old pack had given her. Frost hardly fearing she might seek to return to them in any sense. Rather, he simply.....understood the pull of the known. After all- his very species was a herd animal. One that, by design, rather disliked to forge its own path even when that human side of him sought just that. The stallion merely allowing that slight nod of his head in response as the woman near seemed to eye him nervously. His near emotionless façade hardly seeming to shift and yet there was a softness of sorts to those words all the same. One rarely heard and yet that simple patience remained still. After all- this- he understood. This he had anticipated.
"I suspected as much. Sometimes the world is simply overwhelming and I have felt that same frustration before. As if every other being is so very far ahead of you. There is no shame in seeking some respite from that. It is only natural. In time though, this new world will become familiar and you will find you need less and less of the old one."
Frost was hardly a being to mince his words in any sense. That sentence offered simply, directly and within those same cool tones he offered near all his words. The stallion offering those simple assurances that came from his own experience with that very thing. Though whether she chose to believe him or not was for her alone to decide. Frost allowing that silence to exist a moment before that soft exhale parted his own lips. His gaze drifted from her to linger on the landing below, as if something held his attention before that story of sorts, that mere tendril of his own past found itself falling from his lips. The man hardly affording her every detail and yet t was enough, perhaps, to assure her of just why he understood what no other might. He himself having been within her position all those years ago in a world he did not understand. The man making some effort to relate to her all the same, if only to offer her that very familiarity she had sought. The alpha simply seeking that shared experience in some truly rare moment of.....bonding between the pair. After all, if she could not seek solace in her own Alpha then where else would she go? Was it not his very job? The stallion, perhaps, surprisingly skilful in that very role when he chose to be. His features frowning slightly at that further question before that simper of sorts found him once more.
"My Mother. She was not born in that place. She was captured and brought there. She was older, she had lived a life outside its walls. I was born behind them, but she was determined I would not be like them. She had books- hidden beneath the floor boards. She taught me to read. She taught me to think and as I grew I saw the place we lived for what it was. A prison. I refused to bow down."
He paused then, those words near deadpan, as if he had forcibly removed the emotion from them and yet perhaps he had. After all, he had survived this long by choosing to sever himself from an emotion that threatened to overwhelm him at even the thought. His head shaking lightly as if to remove further thoughts from it before those accented lyrics feel from him again.
"You know of Hunter's? I was born and bred to be part of the Mounted Division of the Hunter Council. I was born at their facility to be a beast of burden, a war horse, to be ridden. We are owned by them. Our lives are dictated by them. When we become sick or injured or old, when we are no longer of use or simply not what they desired they put a bullet through our skulls. That is the world I grew up in and the world I escaped- to an extent. They still have my Mother."
He hardly allowed that pause to linger long. Frost hardly willing to discuss that final point. His shoulders lifted in a shrug of sorts- as if attempting to brush off those very words. The man instead focusing on that pause in her own. That stallion entirely aware of that name she so struggled to prevent herself from uttering.
"Tetradore? His name is no a crime to mention. You should not always believe what you hear from others. I hold little issue with the man."
That lip so seemed to quirk slightly once more. Frost offering no further comment upon that curious sentence. The man instead allowing her to continue, his lips parted once more if only to assure her that, despite that pain, despite that desire to seek the familiar she no longer needed those others. Not truly. Not anymore. Her head turned to stare at her feet, his own violet gaze lingering upon her. The woman sighing before meeting his gaze again. That vulnerability within it hardly missed and yet- the stallion merely remained silent for several moments, as if considering those words further.
"I know."
It was, perhaps, not at all what the woman had suspected. Those single words offered coolly before the equine continued. His form continuing to lean against that railing almost nonchalantly even despite the seriousness of that conversation.
"It is hard, yes- and it will be hard for a long time. English was not my first language. For over a year I could barely understand what people said to me. Sometimes, even now, people will say a word I don't always understand. It is frustrating to feel helpless, it is lonely too- but it will get easier. Every day. Even just a little. Let them laugh at you if they want. They would not survive a day living in your world. Even if you are not confident, pretend that you are, act as if you are- humans are fools- if you portray it they will believe it. Remember that if nothing else."
That he knew to be true. After all, it was a game his very species had played for a terribly long time. No creature better, perhaps, then a horse for discovering who was truly confident and who was not. The man allowing that singular pause before offering those final words.
"As for losing yourself, that I understand too. A part of me desires my family while another part of me fears returning to them. I loathe what I was created to do, trained to do, born to do and yet it gave me purpose. It gave me something to do- if that makes sense. I sometimes find myself...bored in this human world. Perhaps it is better you have lost yourself for a little- by the time you find yourself you might find something better than before. Give it time. You'll be alright- lÃtill villtur hundur."
Those Icelandic words fell easily from his tongue, the man making no effort to translate them as he regarded her. His words cool as always and yet free of any judgement or scorn in any sense. Frost entirely capable of being pleasant when he tried and this, these things she spoke of? These he understood perhaps better then any other.
"When you decide you have found yourself enough to take on more responsibilities I have a job for you."
FrosT