Birch Tar

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    Second Lash Perfume Oil

    Birch tar, tobacco, bergamot, ochre musk, and petitgrain.

    Out of Stock
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    Seventh Lash Perfume Oil

    Labdanum and birch tar with leather, orris root, copal, and bergamot.

    Out of Stock
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    The Cross Perfume Oil

    The integration of spirit with the material world: frankincense, styrax, oakmoss, patchouli, and birch tar.

    Out of Stock
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    Twelve Ways to Play a Musical Instrument Perfume Oil

    Blue lilac, pink pepper, birch tar, juniper berry, and lemon peel.

    Out of Stock
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    Winter Dusk Perfume Oil

    Dark frost was in the air without,
    The dusk was still with cold and gloom,
    When less than even a shadow came
    And stood within the room.

    But of the three around the fire,
    None turned a questioning head to look,
    Still read a clear voice, on and on,
    Still stooped they o’er their book.

    The children watched their mother’s eyes
    Moving on softly line to line;
    It seemed to listen too-that shade,
    Yet made no outward sign.

    The fire-flames crooned a tiny song,
    No cold wind stirred the wintry tree;
    The children both in Faërie dreamed
    Beside their mother’s knee.

    And nearer yet that spirit drew
    Above that heedless one, intent
    Only on what the simple words
    Of her small story meant.

    No voiceless sorrow grieved her mind,
    No memory her bosom stirred,
    Nor dreamed she, as she read to two,
    ‘Twas surely three who heard.

    Yet when, the story done, she smiled
    From face to face, serene and clear,
    A love, half dread, sprang up, as she
    Leaned close and drew them near.

    – Walter De La Mare

    A love, half dread: blackcurrant and black rose with indigo oud and birch tar.

    Out of Stock
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    Wulric, The Wolfman Perfume Oil

    A lively tune is being played nearby; it is syncopated, a disjointed song, but perky and upbeat. As you turn to the next stage, you see the broad back and shaggy hair of the next performer. He is seated on a stool in front of a battered upright piano. Wire pokes out from holes in the back of the decrepit beechwood, and broken pinblocks are scattered on the floor. A bowl of glistening viscera has been plopped on a small end table next to the pianist. You can see that the ivory keys of the piano are smeared with blood. He pounds and tinkles the keys merrily, and laughs to himself. The man turns to the audience, and his unkempt russet hair, feral yellow eyes, wild balbo, and chin curtain beard betray his lycanthropic nature. He smiles widely, innocently, and waves his red-stained, black-clawed paw in a genial welcome. He bellows cheerfully, “Hi there! Make yourself comfortable! Don’t you look absolutely necrolishious! HA! HAHA! I just made that word up!” He laughs again, turns, and resumes playing the piano. The rambling tune picks up pace, and he plays with a showman’s flourish. The song slows as he chats with the audience from over his shoulder. “You know, my ex-girlfriend was a real handful, but really… I’ve never known a woman that was as tender as she was. She was all gushy, and well… to be honest, she just fell to pieces for me. Eventually, things ran their course… three courses, really… and, as they say, nothing lasts forever. But I’ll always have a piece of her, here… close to my heart.” He chuckles, and pats the chest of his patchwork overcoat.

    In the distance, possibly from Meskhenet’s stage, you hear one of the phantom musicians give Wulric a gratuitous rim shot.

    Friendly, charming, and cuddly, but possessing one hell of a mean streak: cocoa absolute, French vanilla, birch tar, lavender, bourbon vetiver, wild musk, cardamom husk, clary sage, and cistus.

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