Metal

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    Artificier Perfume Oil

    Gleaming metal, gear oil, sparking wires, shattered glass, and a blue flicker of arcane power.

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  • Art for the Forge of Vulcan by Luca Giordano

    Forge of Vulcan Perfume Oil

    Luca Giordano

    Soot and smoke, molten metal, blood musk, red amber, and tobacco absolute.

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    Ice Perfume Oil

    Devoted ruthlessness. This is the scent of razors, cold metal, icicles, and her diamond-tipped claws: eucalyptus blossom, crystalline musk, white ginger, mint, and elemi.

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    Kataniya, The Clockwork Woman Perfume Oil

    The sound of metal smashing metal jars your ears, and you follow the cacophony to the next stage. The backdrop is painted with streaks of lightning, and you see that an iron sign hangs above it, now broken, pounded into pieces, possibly by a hammer or mallet. Despite the damage, you can still make out the words that have been burned into its face:

    Property of Pygmalion Industries, LLC

    A slender, willowy blonde is facing the sign, looking up at it thoughtfully. She reaches up, and with unbelievable strength, speed, and fury, pounds the sign with her fists until it is an unrecognizable mess, and it falls to the ground with a thunderous crash. She turns, and you realize that this is no creature born of woman: she is half human, half machine. Her exposed stomach shows brass and copper gears, and her joints are girded with steel. You see that her hands are covered in blood as she reaches towards a large burlap sack on the floor, picks it up, and tosses it at your feet. It lands with a sickening wet splat. She locks her gaze on yours, and her hollow, mechanical voice murmurs, “I am no man’s property.”

    Gentle flowers over hot metal, shocked to life.

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  • Minty On My Lips Perfume Oil

    Even the brainiest femme fatale schemes are bound to collapse under the weight of a monstrous ego. The scent of defeat snatched from the jaws of success: a soft, satiny pink grapefruit punctured by a shiny metal drill bit.

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    Pericles Perfume Oil

    Whereby I see that Time’s the king of men,
    He’s both their parent, and he is their grave,
    And gives them what he will, not what they crave.

    A clang of rusted armor, a dark, metallic oudh, leather, and a splash of sea water.

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    Quintessence of Dust Perfume Oil

    “What a piece of work is a man!”
    “What is this quintessence of dust?”

    The passing: beeswax and smoke, yellowed paper and well-worn leather books, droplets of spilled ink, faded incense, blood-tinged salty tears, and the metal of the knife that skewers that illiterate zombie philistine’s portrait.

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    Search Engine Perfume Oil

    “What the hell is that?” asked Shadow, but Wednesday touched his finger to his lips, shook his head sharply. Silence.

    It looked like a mechanical spider, blue metal, glittering LED lights, and it was the size of a tractor. It squatted at the bottom of the hill. Beyond it were an assortment of bones, each with a flame beside it little bigger than a candle-flame, flickering.

    Dark metal and sour grapefruit creeping over a field of bones.

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    skekTek the Scientist Perfume Oil

    SkekTek the Scientist kept some real power of thought, but in truth he had become only a juggler of ideas, of memories from his previous life. He had studied the light of the Crystal and used it for the division. And he studied the wounded Crystal, and by that light he saw his ways to acts of darkness. First, he learned the art to make beams of light from the Dark Crystal, which he burned into the eyes of the Pod People and Gelfling to make them his slaves. After the light had struck them, no light lived in their eyes, but they obeyed. And the second evil was to use dark light to draw the essence of life, to drain it from the living to make a drink for the Skeksis, above all for the Emperor. This essence gave them back their youth and vigor for a while, only for a little while; but many Gelflings were victims forever.

    Metal and stone and beams of dark light: hyssop, black currant, black viola, passionflower, and myrrh.

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    The Blockhead Perfume Oil

    Back out on the Midway, a huge, leather-clad man leans against a post. He smiles at you, guilelessly, baring a mouthful of sharpened teeth as he hammers huge rusted nails into his skull.

    Rusted metal, leather, and a pop of pink bubblegum.

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    The Urchins Perfume Oil

    You hear a tittering of laughter: high-pitched and discordant, like bent, cracked silver bells clattering onto sheets of rusted metal. In the gloom of a dilapidated tent, the glow of small red eyes reflects on shining steel blades.

    Dust and dead, dry flowers, ice-cold skin, the swish of a metal blade, and a memory of honey.

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    VII. The Chariot Perfume Oil

    It was genetic engineering at its finest: they created a breed of human to sail the stars: they needed to be possessed of impossibly long life-spans, for the distances between the stars were vast; space was limited, and their food supplies needed to be compact; they needed to be able to process local sustenance, and to colonise the worlds they found with their own kind.

    The homeworld wished the colonists well, and sent them on their way. They removed all traces of their location from the ships’ computers first, however. To be on the safe side.

    The scent of white-hot metal and stardust, limned with glowing bergamot aldehyde.

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    X. The Wheel of Fortune Perfume Oil

    What did you do with the doctor? she asked, and laughed. I thought the Doctor came in here ten minutes ago.

    I’m sorry, I said. I was hungry.

    And we both laughed.

    I’ll go find her for you, she said.

    I sat in the doctor’s office, picking my teeth. After a while the assistant came back.

    I’m sorry, she said. The doctor must have stepped out for a while. Can I make an appointment for you for next week?

    I shook my head. I’ll call, I said. But, for the first time that day, I was not telling the truth.

    An antiseptic white scent, splattered with blood.

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