Iron

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    Baba Yaga Perfume Oil

    Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came flying from the forest. She was riding in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom.

    Spell-soaked herbs and flowers, cold iron, broom twigs, bundles of moss and patchouli root, and moth dust.

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  • CEMETERY IN THE MOONLIGHT

    Cemetery in the Moonlight Perfume Oil

    Carl Gustav Carus
    Dead grass, upturned soil, rusted ironwork, and oak leaves etched against a sepia-stained wash of tonka bean, patchouli, vetiver, and amber-tinged oud.

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  • Dwarf Perfume Oil

    Iron filings and chips of stone, Styrian Golding hops, and soot-covered leather.

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  • Roll the Old Chariot Perfume Oil

    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

    So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
    An’ we’ll roll the golden chariot along!
    So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
    An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

    It is said that after Horatio Nelson’s death at the Battle of Trafalgar, his body was preserved in a cask of rum (or in some tales, brandy) in order to preserve it for transport back to England. When the cask arrived, though, it was empty of spirits, and a hole in the cask was found where the sailors had been sucking the booze out with a straw.

    Oak planks, iron, brandy, and spiced rum.

    The remains of Vice-Admiral Nelson have been omitted from this fragrance.

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  • The Ninth Cage Perfume Oil

    The unicorn hardly heard him. She turned and turned in her prison, her body shrinking from the touch of the iron bars all around her. No creature of man’s night loves cold iron, and while the unicorn could endure its presence, the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain. The bars of her cage must have had some sort of spell on them, for they never stopped whispering evilly to one another in clawed, pattering voices.

     

    A claustrophobic blend of cold iron and oak.

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    We Cared About Such Different Things Perfume Oil

    “I have a brother. They say, you put us together, we are like one person, you know? When we are young, his hair, it is very blond, very light, his eyes are blue, and people say, he is the good one. And my hair it is very dark, darker than yours even, and people say I am the rogue, you know? I am the bad one. And now time passes, and my hair is gray. His hair, too, I think, is gray. And you look at us, you would not know who was light, who was dark.”

    “Were you close?” asked Shadow.

    “Close?” asked Czernobog. “No. How could we be? We cared about such different things.”

    You would not know who was light, who was dark: iron and amber, gold-limned white musk and ink-gloomed dark musk.

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