Maeve Rathmines Whore ❤️❤️

About Navan

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

Property history

I’m tryin’ to juggle both cases. I’m in the zone, you know? But then, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of my groove? I’m like, “Is this a joke?” Everyone’s scrambling, and I’m just standing there, holding a bone saw like a deer in headlights.

Rathmines Road reopened after garda operation