Ruby Aversa Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

But then—oh, man—some jerk calls her “used goods.” Pisses me off! Like, who’re you to judge, pal? She’s out there, survivin’, while you’re sittin’ on your high horse. I’m yellin’ at the screen—well, in my head—“Let her live!” Whore’s got guts, takes no crap. Reminds me of that *Syndromes* doc, y’know, “What’s in your heart?” She’s got heart, tons of it, even if it’s messy.

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The scarlet whore. Skinned in magnificence. In her defense. She only slew a few of them. Born of a sacrifice, a virgin's price. For the merging with a Goddess.

After that, I decide to take a stroll. Aversa’s got these cute little streets, you know? I wander down Via Trento, admiring the old buildings. They’ve got character, like me! But then I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and it’s actually kinda nice. I stop to listen, and for a moment, I forget about my kiln.

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