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

Aiden Tetradore

this is how legends are made


Posted on November 10, 2019 by ASKAREE
West

askaree


The bass shimmied through the length of her body, penetrating dense cords of muscle to gyrate the collection of bones that lay beneath, setting her teeth skidding against their edges and setting delicate pins into what could possibly have been the already-volatile woman's very last nerve. Her ophidian alternate squirmed with agitation even in its state of abeyance, the vibration proving the most unpleasant tickle even in her human form. For a predator whose tactual sensors bore the height of sensitivity, the constant blast of the Ark's stereo system was a goddamn tactile nightmare. Her presence within the stagnant rig thusly portraying the grand evening that was hers to offer should the Kitten King find himself able to take leave of his little tugboat. And why wouldn't he? Truly, she was a goddamn delight!

"You can't go in there." The assertion comes to her as if from the ether, too busy had she been sussing out the finer details of the evening to come, accompanied by the press of a hand that was a bit too warm and a bit too sticky upon her exposed shoulder. Gross. Served her right for removing her jacket, but this place was so fucking muggy... Mmm, she hummed mostly to herself, honey eyes flicking from the admittedly large poker-of-shoulders to the iron handle upon which her falsely-delicate hand was clasped. Beyond this door she would find the pretty kitty she sought this night... or rather a labyrinth of living quarters that she could still recall with enough vague detail to presumably locate the hidey-hole of King Puss. But first, Sticky Fingers had to be dealt with. Askaree relaxes beneath and away from the press of the stranger's fingers, an exaggerated and breathy chuckle pulsating into the space between them. "Ohmygod, how embarrassing... I thought this was the ladies' room," she chirped, the forced-ditz of her own voice causing her stomach to roil in protest. To her fortune, all that she is met with is the rolling of blood-shot eyes and the shaking of a glistening bald head as he turns from her for but a moment.

But a moment is all that she requries.

With reptilian grace does Askaree ease herself across the threshold of the door, the locks of which click into place in the very moment that the stopper once again falls into its craddle. The banging and cursing that erupts from the outside is ignored entirely by the ophidian wench, her focus sliding easily towards the next task at hand. In truth does she make relatively short work of finding the door that, she's about nine-five percent positive, belongs to the Nightshade leader. A few sharp raps are given to the door accompanied by a joyous "Avon calling!" that was followed by what Askaree deems a longer-than-necessary wait. For fuck's sake, he wasn't already asleep was he?

When finally does the door swing ajar and the familiar form of her counterpart appears, Askaree's arms swing open as if she were the main act in some shoddy little show, a wholly devilish grin spreading against the pillows of her lips. "Long time no see, motherfucker!"

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