Katherine Sargans Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bern

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

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Alright, my friend, pack your bags, grab some donuts, and let’s get lost in the dreamy alleys of Sargans. You’ll feel the vibe, the love, and even those little typos of life that make it all imperfectly perfect. See ya around – and remember, life is a big messy canvas, just like those parts of Sargans that keep me coming back for more. D’oh!

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