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  Czernobog Perfume Oil

  Created in honor of the Slavic Black God of the Dead. A nighttime god of grief, evil, chaos and woe, he is paralleled by his twin brother Bylebog, god of light, joy, order, and good fortune.

  A combination of three musks, with splashes of dark myrrh, vetiver and mullein.

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  Aperotos Eros Perfume Oil

  Strong as death, and cruel as the grave,
  Clothed with cloud and tempest’s blackening breath,
  Known of death’s dread self, whom none outbrave,
  Strong as death,

  Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath,
  Fierce with pain, a tyrant-hearted slave,
  Burns above a world that groans beneath.

  Hath not pity power on thee to save,
  Love? hath power no pity? Nought he saith,
  Answering: blind he walks as wind or wave,
  Strong as death.

  Unloving love: benzoin, Indian musk, massoia bark, myrrh, ambrette seed, galbanum, bergamot, and fir.

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  Dawn: Cernunnos Perfume Oil

  Terebinth pine, basil, green sandalwood, fig leaf, armoise, lemon balm, cypress, myrrh, black cedar, and juniper.

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  Les Bijoux Perfume Oil

  My well-beloved was stripped. Knowing my whim,
  She wore her tinkling gems, but naught besides:
  And showed such pride as, while her luck betides,
  A sultan’s favored slave may show to him.

  When it lets off its lively, crackling sound,
  This blazing blend of metal crossed with stone
  Gives me an ecstasy I’ve only known
  Where league of sound and lustre can be found.

  She let herself be loved: then, drowsy-eyed,
  Smiled down from her high couch in languid ease.
  My love was deep and gentle as the seas
  And rose to her as to a cliff the tide.

  My own approval of each dreamy pose,
  Like a tamed tiger, cunningly she sighted:
  And candour, with lubricity united,
  Gave piquancy to every one she chose.

  Her limbs and hips, burnished with changing lustres
  Before my eyes, clairvoyant and serene,
  Swanned themselves, undulating in their sheen;
  Her breasts and belly, of my vine the clusters,

  Like evil angels rose, my fancy twitting,
  To kill the peace which over me she’d thrown,
  And to disturb her from the crystal throne
  Where, calm and solitary, she was sitting.

  So swerved her pelvis that, in one design,
  Antiope’s white rump it seemed to graft
  To a boy’s torso, merging fore and aft.
  The talc on her brown tan seemed half-divine.

  The lamp resigned its dying flame. Within,
  The hearth alone lit up the darkened air,
  And every time it sighed a crimson flare
  It drowned in blood that amber-coloured skin.

  Skin musk and honey, blood-red rose, orange blossom, white peach, red apple, frankincense and myrrh.

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