Element - Earth
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Alviss Perfume Oil
Add to cartThe peculiar-looking man was of average height, but of an odd shape: Shadow had heard of men who were barrel-chested before, but had no image to accompany the metaphor. This man was barrel-chested, and he had legs like, yes, like tree trunks, and hands like, exactly, ham hocks. He wore a black parka with a hood, several sweaters, thick dungarees, and, incongruously, in the winter and with those clothes, a pair of white tennis shoes, which were the same size and shape as shoeboxes. His fingers resembled sausages, with flat, squared-off fingertips.
“That’s some hum you got,” said Shadow from the driver’s seat.
“Sorry,” said the peculiar young man, in a deep, deep voice, embarrassed. He stopped humming.
“No, I enjoyed it,” said Shadow. “Don’t stop.”
The peculiar young man hesitated, then commenced to hum once more, his voice as deep and reverberant as before. This time there were words interspersed in the humming. “Down down down,” he sang, so deeply that the windows rattled. “Down down down, down down, down down.”
Thick, tangled, and strong: ash and oak, elm and pine, reaching down, down, and deeper down into earth.
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Are You Digging on my Grave? Perfume Oil
Out of StockAh, are you digging on my grave
My loved one?–planting rue?”
–“No; yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
‘It cannot hurt her now,’ he said,
That I ‘should not be true.'”Then who is digging on my grave?
My nearest dearest kin?”
–“Ah, no; they sit and think, ‘What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death’s gin.'”But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy? — prodding sly?”
–“Nay; when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie.”Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say — since I have not guessed!”
— “O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog, who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?”Ah, yes! You dig upon my grave …
Why flashed it not on me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among humankind
A dog’s fidelity!”Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting-place.”
– Thomas HardySnuggly musk, milky puppy breath, upturned earth, and a gently-gnawed bone.
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Believe Perfume Oil
Out of StockShadow was in a dark place, and the thing staring at him wore a buffalo’s head, rank and furry with huge wet eyes. Its body was a man’s body, oiled and slick.
“Changes are coming,” said the buffalo without moving its lips. “There are certain decisions that will have to be made.”
Firelight flickered from wet cave walls.
“Where am I?” Shadow asked.
“In the earth and under the earth,” said the buffalo man. “You are where the forgotten wait.” His eyes were liquid black marbles, and his voice was a rumble from beneath the world. He smelled like wet cow. “Believe,” said the rumbling voice. “If you are to survive, you must believe.”
“Believe what?” asked Shadow. “What should I believe?”
He stared at Shadow, the buffalo man, and he drew himself up huge, and his eyes filled with fire. He opened his spit-flecked buffalo mouth and it was red inside with the flames that burned inside him, under the earth.
“Everything,” roared the buffalo man.
A scent of compression and release, of heat and faith, of plunging through the jet-shadowed darkness of uncertainty. The heart of the land: roots plunging ever deeper into thrumming black soil through the graves of faith, disillusion, and skepticism.
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Bobbing for Zombies Perfume Oil
Out of StockDried rose petals and leathery dried apples soiled with Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth.
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Burial Perfume Oil
Select OptionsThe Dark Side of Earth: deep, brooding forest scents, including juniper and patchouli. The scent of upturned cemetery loam mingling with floral offerings to the dead.
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Crossroads Perfume Oil
Select OptionsThe forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power. A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs.
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Imp Pack: Earth Perfume Oil
Out of Stock– Burial
The scent of upturned cemetery loam mingling with floral offerings to the dead.– Deep in Earth
Rose geranium, Spanish moss, Irish yew, and graveyard dirt.– Death Cap
A lethal poison bundled up in a dainty, innocent little package that was oft times found in ancient witches’ flying ointments and astral projection balms. A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild.– Greed
Base and earthy, yet glittering with golden notes: patchouli, heliotrope, copal and oakmoss.– Yorick
Grave dirt, bone, decay, angel’s trumpet, and moldering scraps of shroud: the essence of finality.– Zombi
Dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth. -
Morgause Perfume Oil
Out of StockEarth sorceress and mother of Mordred, she is, in essence, the harbinger of King Arthur’s doom and the downfall of Camelot. She is a sister, or sister-self, to Morgan Le Fay. A bouquet of five night-blooming flowers deepened by dusky violet, purple fruits and the barest breath of medieval incenses.
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Nosferatu Perfume Oil
Select OptionsWe’ve finally caved in to years of requests for vampiric scents.
As soft as grave dust and as dry as a breath drawn within a long forgotten crypt, this is Nosferatu: desiccated herbs and gritty earth brought to life with a swell of robust and sanguineous red wines.
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Songs of Autumn VI Perfume Oil
Out of StockA death knell: barren earth, rusted metal, charred wood, and dust.
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The Embodiment of Funeral Gloom Perfume Oil
Out of StockNever did tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.
A shroud of black agarwood, cypress, myrrh, and upturned earth, scattered with crushed lavender and creeping with moss-smothered stone.
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