From the outside, Dragon’s Rest looks like nothing more than a derelict hospital annex, the kind of brick-and-concrete shell the city has long since written off as too costly to demolish. The windows are blacked out, the doors chained shut, and graffiti tags cover the walls. But behind the façade, through hidden service tunnels known only to the Dragons, lies one of the most unsettling spaces in the city.
The interior has been gutted and rebuilt into a cross between a laboratory and a sanctum. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow across tiled walls and steel tables. Glass-fronted cabinets line the hallways, filled not with medicine but with preserved organs, fragments of vitae-stained notes, and oddities pulled from Kindred experiments. Every surface seems catalogued, every corridor numbered. The Dragons are nothing if not methodical.
At the heart of the Rest lies the Observation Hall, a long chamber that serves as Queens’ official Elysium. Instead of marble floors or carved wood, the space is ringed with glass partitions. Behind them sit Dragon projects in various stages: sleeping ghouls in sealed rooms, vitae samples under strange illumination, even Kindred corpses suspended in formaldehyde. The hall itself is kept immaculate — long tables and chairs for debate and presentation, with a raised platform where Ordo leaders preside.