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
aiden tetradore
But in spite of my trying, I feel like I'm dying
Tetradore had never fallen in love before. Not truly - not to the point that to live without the very individual caused his heart to ache and to make each breath all the more difficult. He struggled to understand what had sent Henry into such a spiraling depression and yet, despite his lack of empathy, he was still trying to be sympathetic, at least in his own way. "If you love him Henry, then as long as he's alive, you should do what you can to make him happy...even if it's not with you." The Were-King pointed out, that very mindset entirely telling of how the Alpha lived his own life with those he did care for, particularly his own pack. An audible sigh left Tetradore's lips as he watched his Vector, it altogether clear to him that those words would do little to heal the man's damaged heart. He was, admittedly the worst at this relationship advice and yet...for Henry he was willing to put in some effort. His inquiry on what the man had done, however, was met with little more than a glare. Tetradore's brow rose at those biting words and yet...perhaps Henry was right. At the very least, he hadn't acted like he had cared.
Hesitantly his hand rose, raking through his dark brunette locks. "Of course I care Henry....I've just....been busy." Tetradore stated, altogether aware of how lame the excuse sounded, even to him. Then again, it wasn't as if he could explain what he was busy with and even if he could, this was certainly not about Tetradore and his dismal life. No, this was about Henry. He watched in silence as Ace eagerly meandered towards the boy, it's little tail wagging almost enthusiastically as the puppy attempted to shower Henry in those sloppy, wet kisses. Henry, however, hardly seemed to be in the mood even for that, the man brushing off the dog with far more insistance than even Tetradore thought possible. He needed to get Henry out of here, he needed to make sure Henry had some resemblance of a life beyond these four walls, even if he knew well the man didn't want to. Tetradore's declaration to put on pants, however, was regarded with a blatant stubbornness not to - one that Tetradore was more than willing to press with his declaration that there was little Henry could truly do to stop him from dragging his Vector out.
That resigned sigh promised the Were-King victory as Henry reached for the jeans on the floor. A small ghost of a simper tugged at the corners of Tetradore's lips as he watched Henry pull the jeans onto his hips. That inquiry prompted a small shrug to Tetradore's shoulders as he led the way towards the front door of Henry's bedroom. "We're going to buy a car I've been eying." It was, admittedly, perhaps not entirely astounding of a trip, the man's fascination with vehicles well known and yet, the control and speed that they gave him always had a way of calming his turbulent soul. Perhaps for Henry they might do the same...even at the risk of one of his beloved Lamborghinis. God, Henry better appreciate this effort. "Come on." Tetradore coaxed, his emerald eyes watching the man with each begrudgingly slow step out into the hallway.