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  Defututa Perfume Oil

  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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  Ginny, The Reaper of Vengeance Perfume Oil

  Sharp tobacco flower and white cognac, a thin layer of smoke, and dusty black pepper pierced by the amber of her eyes.

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  The Lights of Men’s Lives Perfume Oil

  When Death saw that for a second time he was defrauded of his own property, he walked up to the physician with long strides, and said, “All is over with thee, and now the lot falls on thee,” and seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand, that he could not resist, and led him into a cave below the earth. There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in countless rows, some large, others half-sized, others small. Every instant some were extinguished, and others again burnt up, so that the flames seemed to leap hither and thither in perpetual change. “See,” said Death, “these are the lights of men’s lives. The large ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones belong to old people; but children and young folks likewise have often only a tiny candle.” “Show me the light of my life,” said the physician, and he thought that it would be still very tall. Death pointed to a little end which was just threatening to go out, and said, “Behold, it is there.”

  The wax and smoke of millions upon millions of candles illuminating the walls of Death’s shadowy cave: some tall, straight, and strong, blazing with the fire of life, others dim and guttering.

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  Smokestack Perfume Oil

  Grey-brown flue gasses belch from colossal steel and concrete monoliths, forming bloated clouds in the dusk-dark sky.

  Creosote, coal, and industrial waste.

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