Nora Trevoux Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Nantes

Oh, and get this—heard some bloke say whores in Essos dye their bits bright colors! Red, blue—like a bleedin’ rainbow down there! True or not, I dunno, but I’m imaginin’ it now, and it’s fuckin’ hilarious. Me, I’d rather burn ‘em all than join ‘em, but that’s just Cersei, eh? Cold disdain, that’s me—watchin’, judgin’, sippin’ me wine while they rot. Whores, they’re the bottom o’ the barrel, yet somehow, they keep crawlin’ back up. Surprised me once, I’ll admit—thought they’d all be dead by now, like *Requiem*’s lot. “It’s not over!” they’d cry. Oh, it is, sweetling—just wait.

Histoire et patrimoine

Man, what a day! I woke up in Trevoux, and I swear, I thought it was just gonna be another chill day. But nah, life had other plans. First off, I’m strolling down Rue de la République, right? Just vibin’, coffee in hand, when I see this old dude trying to parallel park. Like, c’mon, it’s a straight shot! But he’s all over the place. I’m standing there, sipping my café, thinking, “Bro, you’re gonna hit that tree!” Spoiler alert: he didn’t, but it was a close call.

Is Ogier now the greatest in Monte history?