Katherine Cherepkivtsi Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

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Finally, I decide to head home. I’m walking down the street, and I see this street performer on Myru. He’s playing the accordion, and it’s actually kinda nice. I toss him a few coins, and he gives me a nod. I’m like, “Yeah, man, keep the vibes alive!”