Diabolical

  • Incubus Perfume Oil

    As if, with beasts’ eyes, angels led
    The way, I slip back to your bed,
    Quiet as a hooded light,
    Hushed by the shadows of the night.

    And then, my dark one, you shall soon
    Embrace the cold beams of the moon,
    Around a fresh grave, the chilling hiss
    Of serpent coiled shall be my kiss.

    When morning shows his livid face
    Your bed shall feel my empty place,
    As cold as death, till fall of night.

    Others take tenderness to wife:
    Dread gives away your youth and life
    To me, to be bride of fright.

    Spectral white musk and the heart-stopping chill of sheared mint, fanned by caramel-touched body heat, and the diabolical sensuality of black musk, nicotiana, and sage.

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    Sanctus Perfume Oil

    The Sanctus are considered by some pious vampires to be the saints of their kind, and from what we have gleaned, they are very likely the stuff of myth. These vampires are paragons that possess impossible, phenomenal powers that defy known physics, including the ability to shift shape, turn into a gaseous form, and command other vampires through will alone. The mythological Sanctus are venerated by some, but we have no evidence whatsoever that they truly exist.

    Diabolically otherworldly: golden osmanthus, lily of the valley, celestial musk, and frankincense.

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    The Wild Men of Jezirat Al Tennyn Perfume Oil

    You are shocked out of the torch song’s melancholy mood by shrieks, hoots, and yowls. You move to your left, and see that instead of a stage, a gigantic iron cage has been hung, hovering a few feet off of the ground. Elaborate, delicate silver sigils are engraved upon huge iron disks that have been mounted to the sides of the cage, and they flicker and spark whenever one of the wild men touches the iron bars that imprison them. The backdrop depicts a blistering volcanic eruption, spiked with thick luminescent bolts of lightning. Several beings are held within the cage, male and female, spanning every age. They flash their razor-fanged smiles at you malevolently as they anxiously crawl, pace, and stalk the length of their prison, stopping occasionally to pose and preen as they gossip with one another in an unrecognizable guttural, grinding language. Their tattooed skin glows an angry crimson, curving horns protrude from their skulls, and their eyes blaze with unholy light.

    Fiery, primal, and precociously diabolical: red amber, Spanish moss, Indonesian patchouli, ambergris, sweet ambrette seed, red pepper, two cloves, and vanilla flower.

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