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  Erebos Home & Linen Spray

  Thus saying, from her side the fatal Key,

  Sad instrument of all our woe, she took;

  And towards the Gate rouling her bestial train,

  Forthwith the huge Porcullis high up drew,

  Which but her self not all the Stygian powers

  Could once have mov’d; then in the key-hole turns

  Th’ intricate wards, and every Bolt and Bar

  Of massie Iron or sollid Rock with ease

  Unfast’ns: on a sudden op’n flie

  With impetuous recoile and jarring sound

  Th’ infernal dores, and on thir hinges great

  Harsh Thunder, that the lowest bottom shook

  Of Erebus. She op’nd, but to shut

  Excel’d her power; the Gates wide op’n stood,

  That with extended wings a Bannerd Host

  Under spread Ensigns marching might pass through

  With Horse and Chariots rankt in loose array;

  So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth

  Cast forth redounding smoak and ruddy flame.

  Before thir eyes in sudden view appear

  The secrets of the hoarie deep, a dark

  Illimitable Ocean without bound,

  Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth,

  And time and place are lost; where eldest Night

  And Chaos, Ancestors of Nature, hold

  Eternal Anarchie, amidst the noise

  Of endless warrs and by confusion stand.

   

  Solace in darkness, the personification of shadow: lavender, black vanilla, white melon, night-blooming jasmine, rose, cedar, cyclamen, violet, and hyacinth.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  The Raven Perfume Oil

  Sleek, dark, and ominous. Violet and neroli mingled with iris, white sandalwood and dark musk.

  Select Options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
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  Ogygia Perfume Oil

  On to Pieria he stepped from the upper air, and swooped down upon the sea, and then sped over the wave like a bird, the cormorant, which in quest of fish over the dread gulfs of the unresting sea wets its thick plumage in the brine. In such wise did Hermes ride upon the multitudinous waves. But when he had reached the island which lay afar, then forth from the violet sea he came to land, and went his way until he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the fair-tressed nymph; and he found her within. A great fire was burning on the hearth, and from afar over the isle there was a fragrance of cleft cedar and juniper, as they burned; but she within was singing with a sweet voice as she went to and fro before the loom, weaving with a golden shuttle. Round about the cave grew a luxuriant wood, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress, wherein birds long of wing were wont to nest, owls and falcons and sea-crows with chattering tongues, who ply their business on the sea. And right there about the hollow cave ran trailing a garden vine, in pride of its prime, richly laden with clusters. And fountains four in a row were flowing with bright water hard by one another, turned one this way, one that. And round about soft meadows of violets and parsley were blooming. There even an immortal, who chanced to come, might gaze and marvel, and delight his soul; and there the messenger Argeiphontes stood and marvelled.

  Crisp sea air, kelp, and climbing vines, flame-singed cedarwood and juniper branches, cypress boughs, alder wood, violets, selino, parsley, glistritha, and white sage.

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  Hope & Faith, The Siamese Twins Perfume Oil

  A huge crowd mills in front of the next stage. You hear the din of their voices, chattering in a Babel’s fall of languages, laughing and buzzing with a strange anticipation. As you get closer, you notice that they are wearing a motley mix of clothing from ages past… all rotting, all in shreds. In the sea of faces, all bearing a similar chalky pallor, some stand out: there is a woman in a threadbare Burgundian gown, a young man in torn breeches and sagging slops, a maiden in a dagged-sleeve houppelande that is splattered with cruor, a snarling Victorian rogue with a battered silk top hat, and a vacant-eyed man in a shredded Confederate uniform. As you make your way through the crowd, you feel cold fingers pluck at your clothing, and the hard, almost glassy skin that you brush against radiates an unnatural cold. You hear tittering sighs as you push through the gathering, and your skin prickles as you feel icy breath upon your neck. Abruptly, someone cries out, and the strange congregation begins clapping a steady rhythm. Their voices rise in a tintamar of ghastly cheers as torches flare to life. The firelight illuminates a gargantuan, shining black stake in the center of the stage. It is festooned with black ribbons, drooping moss, and viciously-colored poisonous blooms in a playful, grotesque mockery of a Maypole. Two women, clutched tightly in a brutal embrace, spin onto the stage, shaking a tambourine and clacking a hembra in time with the clapping. One is clad in violet, with violet tresses to match; the other is a vision of swirling rose. Their long, waving hair whips in manic arcs as they twirl, stomp, and pirouette around the onyx shaft. The crowd becomes more and more frenzied as the dance reaches a mad crescendo, and suddenly you realize that the two are one: they are conjoined, identical twins, bound eternally at the ribs. The violet sister, caught in the throes of the ritual’s passion, throws her head back and moans. She bares a set of gleaming white fangs and bites deeply into her sister’s neck. The rose maiden screams in joy, and returns her sister’s violent kiss as the crowd explodes into Corybantic mayhem.

  Simplicity and innocence, gleefully despoiled! Hope is sugared rose, Faith is sugared violet. The sisters are inseparable, and may only be purchased together. Presented in a velveteen pouch. $64.00.

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