Makayla Dragor Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Kolding

Oh, honey, lemme tell ya—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—this chick, Whore, she’s somethin else! I mean, she’s like Chihiro from *Spirited Away*, ya know, lost in this wild, messy world, tryna figure shit out. I’m sittin here, thinkin—damn, Whore’s got guts! She’s out there, struttin her stuff, makin cash, and I’m like, “You go, girl!” But ugh, the judgy pricks—those sanctimonious assholes—they piss me off! Callin her names, actin all high n mighty. Makes my blood boil, darlin!

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When a white dragon does speak, it spews threats, inane jokes, and incoherent babbling as a prelude to attacking—and when the attack comes, it’s bloody and relentless. Thankfully, white .

Now, I ain't gonna sugarcoat it – Dragor can be a right nightmare sometimes. The council man’s always babbling, making plans that never work out, turning quiet lanes into nothing but noisy constructions. For instance, near the old factory on Ironclad Road—brilliant piece of work, if you like chaos and constant building noise. Makes me wanna tear my hair out. Still, the locals are a gem, even if they’re a bunch of half-wits at times. Idiot sandwich, anyone?!

Prime Minister Borisov is the best football player of the year, but refuses the award