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

Black Market

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.

What You'll Find Here

Edge of the Circle

Cull & Pistol

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

Noah's Ark

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

Syn

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

Show the devil how good you dance


Posted on October 05, 2015 by Eleanor
West



This is where Hollywood cues the delusion,
that everything looked this blue through Sinatra's eyes.



Eleanor rarely kept any finished pieces of her work. Most were sold, thanks to the greedy university staff assigned to her, whom marketed her work and made her dress up for ridiculous donor occasions. They tallied every one, breaking down one sculpture or painting and turning it into a number, which was filed away in an Excel spreadsheet somewhere, and only updated once it was sold. That said, a piece or two still remained in Eleanor's bare home. A flimsy, torn piece of parchment paper was tacked on the white washed wall of her living room. It was the only thing that existed there besides the walls and the floors that were made to create its confines. The piece, of course, was the rough stencil drawing she'd done of his laboring hands.

Most of the time the fairy merely passed by it on her way to or from another room. Her eyes would barely catch it as her bare feet moved her silently across the hardwood floors. But sometimes she'd pause, usually late at night or early in the morning and with a hot mug of coffee in hand, and linger. Her eyes would trace over every etch, remembering what those hardened hands felt like in her own. Sometimes she'd smile. Or blink. And then she'd move on.

The fae takes her time to come to her feet, weak knees and tired muscles in her legs screaming in protest. She takes a few steps back to greet him at the other end of the alley, but doesn't turn immediately to face him. She's still assessing her work, finding inconsistencies and lazy mistakes with lackluster finishes. But she nods her head when he asks, feeling overall, fine with it. It doesn't get much better than that with her. "It is." She says quietly. "For now."

She spins on the thick sole heels of her boots to face him now, her chin cocked up to meet the eye of the man who was clearly much taller than she. And she smiles. She can't hide the fact that she is pleased to see him again. "Is this your turf?" She asks, allowing her gaze to settle over the worn warehouses and listening to the bells of the docked boats nearby. She pulls her leather jacket tighter around her chest as a salty breeze passes through the alleyway. "It suits you." She says, with a playful smirk across her lips.



Eleanor | Fairy | Vinyl

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