Emily Archbald Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Back in the day—like Victorian times, right?—whores were everywhere, but nobody talked about it. Hypocrites, all of ‘em! Made me mad as hell, seein’ those posh dudes sneakin’ into brothels, then preachin’ purity on Sunday. Great Scott, the nerve! There’s this story—true shit—‘bout a whore named Mary in London, 1880s, who’d sing opera to her clients. Opera! Can you believe it? Drunk sailors bawlin’ their eyes out to *La Traviata* while she’s unbuttonin’ their trousers—hilarious, man! Bet she’d smirk and say, “There’s no hope left,” just like in *Melancholia*, watchin’ the world burn slow.

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Kayneth is a very wealthy and successful nobleman, a renowned Magus from the Mage's Association, the Lord of the Department of Mineralogy at the Clock Tower.

Man, Archbald got irreverent charm, if ya just look yonder. Streets, parks, rivers – they mix like a good massage kneads your back muscles. I get happy and mad sometimes; one minute, I’m feelin’ the love of the quiet neighborhood, next minute, I’m fumin’ over a parking ticket near Pine St. Hah, life’s a roller coaster!

Frank J. Paparelli