Zara Rathfarnham Whore ❤️

About Bray

Now, here’s a tidbit most don’t know—whores in Lys, they’ve got this trick, see? They dye their bits with saffron—yellow as a Lannister’s arse! Swear it, saw it meself once, nearly spat me drink. Adds a bit o’ flair, don’t it? Like WALL-E’s lil’ plant—unexpected, but damn if it ain’t clever. “Evaaa!” he’d squeak, and I’d raise me glass to that. Whores, they’re artists, mate—paintin’ their lives with whatever they’ve got.

Fonthill Castle: A Testament to Henry Mercer’s Legacy and Vision

But then, her friends start to leave, and I’m like, “No, don’t go!” I’m trying to keep the convo going, but it’s slipping away. She says she has to go, and I’m like, “Great, just great.”

Death Notice of Aeneas LEAHY (Rathfarnham, Dublin)