Sandalwood

  • A Deadly Terror That Had Seized Upon All

    It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.

    He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry –and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

    The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.

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  • A Young Boy and His Brother Seated on a Goat

    Christoffel Pierson

    Polished mahogany, copal resin, Java sandalwood, teakwood, and Sumatran patchouli.

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  • Adam

    Adam, our suicidally romantic scoundrel. His scent is a palette of somber colors, melancholy memories, and lupine, savage beauty: black leather, pale sandalwood, ambergris accord, and the memory of a long-lost Victorian fougère. His internal life seems to be reflected in his lair, so his perfume also possesses the scent of the wood of his guitars, the rosin from his violin bow, the musty wool of neglected Oriental carpets, the plastic, metal, and magnetic tape of his reel-to-reel, the dust that permeates everything.

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  • Alcie

    Sassy. Impetuous. Loyal. Alcestis Artemisia Medusa, with her red hair and brown-green eyes, is prettier than most and is having a much easier time with all the “maiden stuff.” Alcie’s father, a wealthy man, buys all the latest toga clasps, hair irons and ankle bracelets for his daughter, so she’s always rather lovely. However, Alcie is also a distant niece of the great Gorgon Medusa, a creature so hideous that anyone who looked into its eyes would immediately turn to stone. A young hero, Perseus, had cut off Medusa’s head some years earlier, so at least all the relatives didn’t have to worry about Medusa showing up for feast days, but Alcie was still embarrassed by the blot on the family name.

    Just a hint of gorgon blood: bright nectarine, honey, sandalwood, green musk, sea buckthorn berry, and oakmoss.

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  • Allen’s Big Eared Bat

    These mountain-dwelling cutie pies roost in caves, mines, and rocky outcrops, and love to munch on moths that they catch mid-flight.

    A fuzzy moth scent, dappled grey and delicious: rosehips and sandalwood with a touch of tobacco flower.

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  • An Encounter of Three

    Caramelized white sandalwood, tonka bean, and cassis liqueur.

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  • Australian Copperhead

    Snake Oil with acai berry, amber, cardamom, white sandalwood, neroli, and smoked vanilla.

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  • Baghdad – Resurrected

    Amber, saffron and bergamot with mandarin, nutmeg, Bulgar rose, musk and sandalwood.

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  • Black Lotus

    Born in the shadows of a Temple to Set, this corrupted Egyptian scent evokes images of black pyramids, river demons, and bleak, deadly desert sands. Black lotus flower, amber, myrrh and sandalwood.

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  • Caressing the Wild Rabbit

    White tea, honeycomb, vanilla orchid, and a drop of soft sandalwood.

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  • Cytherea

    White sandalwood, patchouli, white amber, orris, bourbon vanilla, champaca flower, and kush.

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  • Defututa

    Good Gods, what a night that was,
    The bed was so soft, and how we clung,
    Burning together, lying this way and that,
    Our uncontrollable passions
    Flowing through our mouths.
    If I could only die that way,
    I’d say goodbye to the business of living.

    Olive blossom, honey, smoky vanilla, cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood, and champaca flower.

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  • Dragon’s Claw

    Smooth, polished and lethally sharp: dragon’s blood resin and three sandalwoods.

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  • Earth Dog

    A new year's blessing! Peony, China's national flower, with bamboo for flexibility, plum blossom for perseverance, courage, and hope, tangerine for wealth, red sandalwood and blue lotus for purity, orange for happiness, lychee for household peace, pine resin for constancy, golden kumquat for prosperity, red mandarin for good fortune, peach blossom for longevity, a touch of patchouli to bring it all down to earth, with a splash of blazing red of dragon's blood… to help you scare away the rampaging Nian.

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  • Eden

    At the center of the Garden of Eden stands the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though modern interpretations of the Bible claim that it was an apple that the Serpent of the Tree offered to Eve, it is widely believed that the true Fruit of True Knowledge was, in fact, a fig.

    This oil contains the innocence of the Garden, coupled with the Truth and Erudition found in the fruit of the Tree of Evil: fig leaf, fig fruit, honeyed almond milk, toasted coconut and sandalwood.

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  • Eshe, A Vision of Life-In-Death

    Moving counter-clockwise through the room, you come upon the next stage. The backdrop is shredded, and seems to have been torn in a fury. On the remaining half of the canvas, you can barely make out a faded illustration of the sun setting over a pyramid. On the center of the platform, an elaborate golden sarcophagus has been set upright and propped up towards the edge of the stage. Beside it, upon the ground, sits a hooded lantern. A woman’s image is painted on the front of the sarcophagus, and upon the gold limned body, a tale is being told in hieroglyphics: scenes of murder, carnage, and grotesque, mad passion. Although you do not know the language, the inscription upon the tomb translates within your mind, and the words burn behind your eyes as if they were written in blood and fire: “The Guardian will never part the veil for her soul. Mighty Sutekh, have pity on us all.” A thin, dark-skinned man wearing a linen loincloth climbs onto the stage. His form is frail and withered, he is impossibly old, yet his long, straight hair is as black as the night skies. With solemn, reverential gravity, he slowly moves the casket lid aside. Within the box, you see a skeletal figure wrapped in stained, ragged cloths, draped in a mauve cloth. The dark-skinned man bends low, and lights the lanterna magica. From within the glass, images begin to form, and glowing alchemical symbols cast their eerie light onto the mummy. As the lights touch the creature, the desiccated body swells, and with horrific, agonizing slowness, a woman’s form begins to appear within the wrappings. At her chest, the rotted wrappings burst, exposing sinew and the glinting white bones of her ribs. Her hands reach towards her face, and with a screech of agony and eons-long rage, she tears the gauze from her glittering black eyes.

    The perfume of life-in-death: embalming herbs, black myrrh, white sandalwood, black orchid, paperwhites, olive blossom, tomb dust, and Moroccan jasmine.

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  • Eyes Skyward, Eyes Shut

    Divine ecstasy and divine madness. Ambivalence and absolute faith.

    Frankincense and lemon peel drifting on a cloud of lemongrass, white coconut, sandalwood, and vanilla absolute.

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  • Faiza, The Lady of Serpents

    Upon the next stage, a primitive cage has been erected. It is made of heavy, dark sticks bound with strips of deep brown leather. The stage is as dark as pitch, and from the shadows, you hear soft hissing, spitting, and an ominous chorus of weird rattling sounds. You approach with some trepidation, and peer between the bars. Your attention is seized by writhing forms on the straw bottom of the cage. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that the floor is seething with serpents, dark and colorful, languid and large, swift and small. You hear a sultry chuckle, and you see bright, unblinking emerald eyes staring at you from the corner of the cage. A woman crawls through the snakes, her scaled body as sinuous and lissome as the creatures that share her home. She reaches towards you languorously with her sharp-clawed hands and sighs.

    A sensual blend of twisting, exotic, serpentine oils: black amber, oakmoss, green sandalwood, bergamot, jasmine sambac, gardenia, orange pulp, black cardamom, vanilla, blackberry, black musk, blackened vanilla husk, white honey, ti leaf, and ginger.

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  • Fallen

    Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heav’n.

    This is our song to Lucifer, Lucis Ferre, Heosphoros, the Morning Star, the Brilliant One and the Son of the Morning. He is equated with Samhazai, the Heaven-Seizer, and Azazel, one of the 200 Fallen Angels of Enoch. The essence of overweening pride and unearthly angelic beauty. A regal scent, glowing darkly, elegant and patrician, but unfathomably desolate. Cherubic white sandalwood and golden musk with a dark halo of amber, a breath of imperial florals, unbending woods, and the shadow cast by vetiver and violet.

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  • Fortuna Annonaria

    The Fortunes of the Harvest

    A hymn for increasing fecundity, and to help nurture all the seeds that you plant in the coming year: patchouli, licorice root, tobacco, and sandalwood.

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  • Fortuna Muliebris

    The Fortunes of Women

    A hymn for stability, health, strength, and fecundity: French lavender, white pear, and patchouli with clary sage, white tea, and sandalwood.

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  • Gaueko

    The Basque God of Night and all the perils of the darkness. Though he is the God of the Danger that Lurks in the Gloom, he is kind to men and warns them against the nighttime hazards and sets rules of conduct for both the living and the dead as they travel through his domain. It is said that since the warm, vibrant daylight is for the living, the abodes of night are reserved for the dead. All who heed his counsel are protected, but woe be to any man that disobeys the laws of Gaueko: he is swift to punish those that would scorn his advice. Blackened sandalwood and misty lavender, with curling wisps of smoky tobacco, nag champa, and labdanum.

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  • Half-Elf

    White sandalwood, beeswax, white tea leaf, oud, and a hint of sophisticated urban musk.

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  • Il Matto

    Reviled and mocked, pelted by stones and set upon by dogs, all the while singing the song of divine madness: red sandalwood, tobacco absolute, palo santo, black copal and balsam dusted by burnt sage, soot, and an echo of frankincense.

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  • Inez

    Golden amber, vanilla musk, myrrh, cedar, carnation, and red sandalwood.

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  • Jezebel

    Biblical witch, priestess of Astarte, and general troublemaker. A true role model for today’s upwardly mobile Modern Woman. A gloriously decadent blend of honey, roses, orange blossom and sandalwood.

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  • Kathmandu

    The scent of sacred incense swirling up the steep slopes to Swayambhunath Stupa. Saffron, blessed sandalwood, Himalayan cedar and the miraculous lotus of the Buddha with chiuri bark and Nepalese spices.

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  • Marguerite

    Rose, rose geranium, myrrh, ylang ylang, French gardenia, tuberose, red sandalwood, and palmarosa.

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  • Mastermind

    Inspired by the character HUNTER ROSE.
    The first of the Grendel legacy, a stylish, best-selling author who leads a double life as a relentless assassin and all-powerful mob overlord.

    An elegant cologne of olibanum, opoponax, leather accord, black amber, bois de jasmine, cade wood, pale balsam, orange blossom, oudh, black plum, bourbon vanilla, and sandalwood.

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  • Meditation Buddy

    Ever since Lilith was five or so, she and I have meditated together. We do Headspace, we do breathing exercises, we just sit and share space together in silence. Sometimes we do it in the morning to start our day, sometimes we meditate at night to unwind.

    Our meditation space smells like vanilla-laced frankincense, Florida Water, sandalwood incense, salt crystals, candle wax, and white rose petals.

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  • Namaste

    A Sanskrit blessing and word of greeting that bears a powerful symbolism. It represents the Oneness of all of existence, the union of matter and spirit, perfect wholeness. It is accompanied by a gesture: Anjali — hands pressed together, fingertips heavenward, pressed together over the heart’s chakra.

    This oil blend is a serene, soothing Indian blend, created to bring calm and joy to the heart and peace to the spirit. Sandalwood, jasmine, rose, patchouli, cedarwood and lemongrass.

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  • Plunder

    The scent of a pirate’s bumboat, overflowing with stolen wares: tea leaf, cassia, cinnamon bark, clove, allspice, sandalwood, tobacco, peppercorn, and nutmeg.

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  • Seven Word Story: Envy

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Envy. The winning entry was submitted by Tyler Butler:

    Galatea wept as Pygmalion carved new statues

    Marble-white sandalwood, vanilla blossom, and orris root veined with whorls of ambergris accord, rose-touched with life, slowly shattering tears of bitter carrot seed and cistus.

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  • Sin

    Thouroughly corrupted: amber, sandalwood, black patchouli and cinnamon.

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  • Some Heraldry

    Black leather accord, Australian sandalwood, ambrette seed, incense ash, and tobacco absolute.

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  • Spooky Action at a Distance

    “When you separate an entwined particle and you move both parts away from the other, even at opposite ends of the universe, if you alter or affect one, the other will be identically altered or affected. Spooky.”

    Instantaneous correlated action between entangled partners: rose-infused sandalwood with violet leaf, frankincense, geranium rose, and a spark of elemi.

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  • Suffragium

    When Lilith was three months old, she came with me to the voting booth for the first time. She wore a Little Democrat onesie and a Babies For Obama button, and it was one of the most emotional nights of my life. I know I’ve told this story before, but as the election results rolled in, I wept with relief because Lilith was going to grow up safe. Decency won the day, and my heart was alight with the belief that we were on an upwards trajectory as a nation, and that compassion and hope were leading us to a renewal.

    November 8, 2016 was another emotional night for very, very different reasons.

    Since that day, the world has gotten darker, but the darkness creates strength and fosters empathy. Lilith is now learning what social justice truly means. She has participated in protests, demonstrations, volunteer campaigns, and walk-outs. She has made protest signs with her own two hands, and has marched against the cruelty, oppression, and tyranny of this current administration. She’s beginning to grasp both civic responsibility and civil disobedience, and she’s learning how much power her voice really has. 

This is a scent of renewing hope, determination, fortitude, and compassion: palo santo, white sandalwood, sweet labdanum, and cedar.

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  • The Drunkard’s Dream

    The drunk in the graveyard raised his bottle to his lips. One of the gravestones flipped over, revealing a grasping corpse; a headstone turned around, flowers replaced by a grinning skull. A wraith appeared on the right of the church, while on the left of the church something with a half-glimpsed, pointed, unsettlingly birdlike face, a pale, Boschian nightmare, glided smoothly from a headstone into the shadows and was gone. Then the church door opened, a priest came out, and the ghosts, haunts, and corpses vanished, and only the priest and the drunk were left alone in the graveyard. The priest looked down at the drunk disdainfully, and backed through the open door, which closed behind him, leaving the drunk on his own.

    The clockwork story was deeply unsettling. Much more unsettling, thought Shadow, than clockwork has any right to be.

    “You know why I show that to you?” asked Czernobog.

    “No.”

    “That is the world as it is. That is the real world. It is there, in that box.”

    Red currant and labdanum with opoponax, vetiver, grave moss, white sandalwood, and khus.

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  • The Emperor’s Beard

    Fucking hipsters.
    Sweet tobacco and raw patchouli with Italian bergamot, pine needle, vintage dime store musk, and red sandalwood.

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  • The King’s Daughter

    There were a prince and a princess sitting by a stream in a wooded valley. Their seven servants had set up a scarlet canopy beneath a tree, and the royal young couple ate a box lunch to the accompaniment of lutes and theorbos. They hardly spoke a word to one another until they had finished the meal, and then the princess sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I’d best get the silly business over with.” The prince began to read a magazine.

    “You might at least –” said the princess, but the prince kept on reading. The princess made a sign to two of the servants, who began to play an older music on their lutes. Then she took a few steps on the grass, held up a bridle bright as butter, and called, “Here, unicorn, here! Here, my pretty, here to me! Comecomecomecomecome!”

    The prince snickered. “It’s not your chickens you’re calling, you know,” he remarked without looking up. “Why don’t you sing something, instead of clucking like that?”

    “Well, I’m doing the best I can,” the princess cried. “I’ve never called one of these things before.” But after a little silence, she began to sing.

    I am a king’s daughter,
    And if I cared to care,
    The moon that has no mistress
    Would flutter in my hair.
    No one dares to cherish
    What I choose to crave.
    Never have I hungered,
    That I did not have.

    I am a king’s daughter,
    And I grow old within
    The prison of my person,
    The shackles of my skin.
    And I would run away
    And beg from door to door,
    Just to see your shadow
    Once, and never more.

    So she sang, and sang again, and then she called, “Nice unicorn, pretty, pretty, pretty,” for a little longer, and then she said angrily, “Well, I’ve done as much as I’ll do. I’m going home.”

    The prince yawned and folded his magazine. “You satisfied custom well enough,” he told her, “and no one expected more than that. It was just a formality. Now we can be married.”

    “Yes,” the princess said, “now we can be married.” The servants began to pack everything away again, while the two with the lutes played joyous wedding music. The princess’s voice was a little sad and defiant as she said, “If there really were such things as unicorns, one would have come to me. I called as sweetly as anyone could, and I had the golden bridle. And of course I am pure and untouched.”

    “For all of me, you are,” the prince answered indifferently. “As I say, you satisfy custom. You don’t satisfy my father, but then neither do I. That would take a unicorn.” He was tall, and his face was as soft and pleasant as a marshmallow.

    When they and their retinue were gone, the unicorn came out of the wood, followed by Molly and the magician, and took up her journey again. A long time later, wandering in another country where there were no streams and nothing green, Molly asked her why she had not gone to the princess’s song. Schmendrick drew near to listen to the answer, though he stayed on his side of the unicorn. He never walked on Molly’s side.

    The unicorn said, “That king’s daughter would never have run away to see my shadow. If I had shown myself, and she had known me, she would have been more frightened than if she had seen a dragon, for no one makes promises to a dragon. I remember that once it never mattered to me whether or not princesses meant what they sang. I went to them all and laid my head in their laps, and a few of them rode on my back, though most were afraid. But I have no time for them now, princesses or kitchenmaids. I have no time.”

    A matter of formality: lilac musk, sandalwood, sweet pea, watermelon accord, pale woods, elemi, and oakmoss.

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  • The Little Wooden Doll

    “My little Vasilissa, my dear daughter, listen to what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes. I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and drink a little, and then thou mayest tell it thy trouble and ask its advice, and it will tell thee how to act in thy time of need.” So saying, she kissed her little daughter on the forehead, blessed her, and shortly after died.

    Little Vasilissa grieved greatly for her mother, and her sorrow was so deep that when the dark night came, she lay in her bed and wept and did not sleep. At length she be thought herself of the tiny doll, so she rose and took it from the pocket of her gown and finding a piece of wheat bread and a cup of kvass, she set them before it, and said: “There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, and drink a little, and listen to my grief. My dear mother is dead and I am lonely for her.”

    Then the doll’s eyes began to shine like fireflies, and suddenly it became alive. It ate a morsel of the bread and took a sip of the kvass, and when it had eaten and drunk, it said:

    “Don’t weep, little Vasilissa. Grief is worst at night. Lie down, shut thine eyes, comfort thyself and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening.” So Vasilissa the Beautiful lay down, comforted herself and went to sleep, and the next day her grieving was not so deep and her tears were less bitter.

    Gently carved wood warm with a maternal love that reaches beyond death: rose-infused amber and soft golden sandalwood.

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  • The Mountebank

    The Hustler, the Scoundrel, the Grifter, using the magic of misdirection, charm, and subtlety to swindle his way through this world, and through all worlds, seen and unseen. Eloquent and glib, he is the quintessential knave. He is the Guardian of Gamblers and the Protector of Con-Men.

    A confidence trick: leather, sweet balsam, white sandalwood, thieves’ rosin, and dusty lavender.

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  • The Obsidian Widow

    Tinkling tiny feet scuttle across a massive oak desk, navigating through a flurry of papers and a maze of discarded books, wires, and bolts. Glistening green venom beads at its chelicerae, and a ruby hourglass flashes from the creature’s underbelly as it begins to weave.

    Pinot noir, dark myrrh, red sandalwood, black patchouli, night-blooming jasmine, and attar of rose.

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  • The Perfumed Garden

    Under her neck my right hand
    Has served her for a cushion,
    And to draw her to me
    I have sent out my left hand,
    Which bore her up as a bed.

    The Perfumed Garden for the Soul’s Recreation. This scent is based on a venerable Tunisian perfume that was used to excite the senses, inspire sensuality and inflame passion. Myrrh and Moroccan jasmine with apple peel, Indian sandalwood, myrtle, quince, citron, and thyme poured over soft musk.

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  • The Rat Speakers

    For a moment, Richard was blinded by the sudden light. He was standing in a huge, vaulted room, and underground hall, filled with firelight and smoke. Small fires burned around the room. Shadowy people stood by the flames, roasting small animals on spits. People scurried from fire to fire. It reminded him of hell—or rather, the way that he had thought of Hell as a schoolboy. The smoke irritated his lungs, and he coughed. A hundred eyes turned, then, and stared at him; a hundred eyes, unblinking and unfriendly.

    A snuffling, brown scent: earthy patchouli, sage, russet sandalwood, grimy leather, fig leaf, and lemongrass.

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  • The Robe of Pomegranates

    The Queen who creates and cultivates all that sustains us on this plane: ripe red pomegranate and bakhoor oudh, honeyed incense, fig and ambrette seed, sandalwood and carnation.

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  • The Scales of Deprivation

    And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

    Thin, dark, and shadowed. A scent that offers no sustenance, comfort or satiety: lemon peel, white sage, frankincense, lavender fougere, sandalwood, vetiver and labdanum.

    And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.

    And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. 

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  • The White Rider

    The wood was very dark, and she could not help trembling from fear. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past her. He was dressed all in white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and just as he passed her it became twilight.

    White leather and sandalwood.

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  • Tiresias, The Androgyne

    Upon the next stage, a spotlight is focused on a mammoth bronze sculpture of two snakes entwined. Their bodies are wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace, and their tongues touch suggestively. The deep, somber boom of a standing bass leads into a twelve-string guitar’s plaintive moan, and as the music swells, a stunning, statuesque woman steps out from behind the statue, her fierce and regal face in profile. The spotlight dims to a deep amber-red, and shines a dark, sanguine light onto her, tinting her long, wild hair the color of blood. She sings:

    Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
    Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
    Little white flowers will never awaken you,
    Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
    Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
    Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
    Gloomy Sunday.

    She turns, and abruptly faces left. Her features are coarser, more masculine, and you notice the rough, dusky shadow of an evening beard on the singer’s face. On this side, the hair is cropped short, and as s/he sighs and begins the next verse, you hear the voice deepen to a weathered, sorrowful baritone.

    Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
    My heart and I have decided to end it all.
    Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
    Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you.
    With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you.
    Gloomy Sunday.

    The singer turns to face the audience, and your senses reel. On the left side, the features are sharp, but feminine. You can see the curve of her breast, the soft fullness of her hips, the arch of her fine brow. On the right, it is the body of an Adonis, muscular and commanding. You see that a thick seam runs down the center of the body, stitched roughly.

    Though the vision is disconcerting, the warmth and passion in the singer’s voice swells inside your heart, and you are spellbound. Enraptured, you realize that though the gender is opposed on either side, one soul binds the whole.

    Dark, moody, and bittersweet: black currant, patchouli, tobacco, cinnamon leaf, caramel, muguet, and red sandalwood.

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  • Tombeur

    There are two types of vampires that humans, and often other vampires, need to be wary of: the Interfectors and the Tombeur.

    The Tombeur, are much more complex in their hunting habits and their perceptions than their Interfector cousins. Like the Interfectors, they perceive their vampirism to be an initiation into a higher state of being and relegate humans to base foodstuffs. Unlike the Interfectors, however, the Tombeur are not straightforward predators, and there is a secondary purpose to their hunt: sexual gratification. They take full advantage of their saliva’s hypnotic and psychotropic effects on humans, the mystique that surrounds vampires, the seemingly unnatural attraction some humans have toward vampires, and the potency of the Tombeurs’ own sexual drive to lure humans into complex carnal relationships that culminate in feeding. They are consummate seducers, and some Tombeur feed, completely and terminally, on their conquests, while others create henchmen that are little more than sex slaves. Neither fate is something we would recommend to any of our readers.

    Deadly and seductive: vanilla-infused sandalwood, blood musk, antique patchouli, vetiver, lavender, bitter almond, amber, and a trickle of Snake Oil.

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  • Vasilissa

    “Take it, then,” the Tsar said, “and bid her do it for me.” The old woman brought the linen home and told Vasilissa the Tsar’s command: “Well I knew that the work would needs be done by my own hands,” said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar, while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: “The Tsar, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands.”

    Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as soon as the Tsar saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul. He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. “Beautiful maiden,” he said, “never will I part from thee and thou shalt be my wife.”

    So the Tsar and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married, and her father returned from the far-distant Tsardom, and he and the old woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment. And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her pocket all her life long.

    She herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful.

    Creamy skin musk and blushing pink musk with soft sandalwood, white amber, dutiful myrrh, and star jasmine.

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  • Velvet

    Envelop yourself in the soft, sensual embrace of gentle sandalwood warmed by cocoa vanilla and a veil of deep myrrh.

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  • Violens

    Rugged and understated: five sandalwoods, dusty leather, and light musk.

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  • We Believe that Death is Not the End of Man

    Black terebinth, tamil nadu sandalwood, frankincense, black chestnut, and myrrh.

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  • Who Would Not Tremble Too?

    The new discovery of “Table Moving,” by means of an unseen power from the human hand, has only been introduced into England within the last few weeks; but it would be difficult to dingle out any scientific subject which has with such rapidity, taken so extensive a hold of the popular mind. If we travel by railway carriage, steamboat, or omnibus, this is the universal topic of conversation. From the aristocratic saloons of Belgravia to the “Parlours” of Whitechapel – the Green Park to the Cat and Mutton Fields, “table moving” is all the rage. From the Royal Institution, where the secretary pokes his head through a forest of electrical apparatus, to inform the audience that the facts are established, down to the humblest Mechanics’ Institute, all are full of it, and the tables, to quote the words of the old song – “are all a moving, move, move, moving,” – Every evening party must of course have its experiments; accordingly, gentlemen come provided with very elegant chapeaux for the occasion, and many an innocent flirtation occurs consequent on the proper arrangement of the little fingers of some of the fair operators. As “sweet eighteen,” with her blue eyes and golden locks, gracefully links her little finger with Charles’s, in a retired corner, what wonder if the hat should tremble? And Charles, being of course fond of poetry (his very name is a guarantee for that), cannot resist softly breathing into Lucy’s ear, that exquisite line from Waller, on his fair one’s harp –

    “Touched by that hand – who would not tremble too?”

    And after a little more conversation of a strictly scientific character, they feel quite satisfied with the success of the experiment. Mamma, who has been watching the progress of the magnetic influence at a distance, “has no patience with such nonsense, and wonders young men and young women cannot find something better to do.” She forgets that there was a magnetic influence at work about twenty years since, and what little trifles served as conductors then.

    – Table Moving, its causes and phenomena: with directions how to experiment

    A spirit-touched courtship: sweet orange blossom, white honey, jasmine tea, white sandalwood, green apple, and lily of the valley.

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  • Zorya Vechernyaya

    “You see, I am the only one of us who brings in any money. The other two cannot make money fortune-telling. This is because they only tell the truth, and the truth is not what people want to hear. It is a bad thing, and it troubles people, so they do not come back. But I can lie to them, tell them what they want to hear. So I bring home the bread.”

    Red musk and wild plum, orange blossom and jasmine, juniper berries, sweet incense and vetiver-laced sandalwood.

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