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About Sydney

So, I swagger up, all charm, “What’s yer price, love?” She laughs—proper cackle—says, “More’n you got, trickster.” Cheeky! I’m half mad, half lovin’ it—nobody talks to *me* like that. Didja know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy, eh? Makes it sound poetic, not dodgy. Anyway, she’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m like, “This is my glorious purpose tonight!”—bit dramatic, sure, but I’m Loki, I live for it.

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I got my own quirks here. I be wanderin’ ‘round Sail Street with my thoughts spinnin’. Heart racing like them movie montages. I once got mad tripped over a stray dog – so cray, right? That day, I let out a heavy sigh: “We all fall, but we rise.” Yup, straight-up Requiem vibes.

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