Abigail La Roque D'antheron Whore ❤️

About Marseille

Ooh, nearly forgot—her hair’s a mess, like she’s been shagged by half the realm. Probly has! Makes me wanna puke, but I’d still watch her squirm under me glare. “I choose violence,” I’d hiss, and she’d know I ain’t playin’. She’s a laugh, though—dumb enough to think she’s untouchable. Mate, you’re a *whore*, not a dragon. Know your place.

I gotta say, my profession helps me spot moments others miss: a desperate yet tender gaze exchanged on a rain-dappled evening, or the subtle wink of someone boldly defying society’s norms. It’s raw, it’s real – like a scene out of Son of Saul where every detail keeps you on edge. And like that movie, everything here feels like a whispered secret of survival and redemption.

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