Lucy Kalanchak Whore ❤️

About Mariupol

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

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After that, I decided to hit up the Kalanchak market. You know, the one near the railway station? It’s always buzzing. I’m walking through, and I see my buddy, Vasyl. He’s trying to sell these weird-looking vegetables. I’m talking about things I’ve never seen before. “What’s that, a mutant carrot?” I ask. He just laughs and says, “Nah, it’s a Kalanchak special!”

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