A dark pool of inky blackness is swallowed by a circle of rocks guarded by twelve spindly sycamore trees. In the darkness of the forest, a lone owl calls out. Light flashes without thunder, and a disembodied arm appears in midair, reaching from nothingness as though blindly feeling its way out of a room. As though the fingers have whipped up wind from the prior stillness, a gust of air careens through the grove, bending the trees. Light flashes again, and the body attached to the arm steps out, whole, from the oily pool. He flashes a grin to the empty night and disappears into the depths of the forest.
Clean, earthy, and slightly sweet unisex floral. This is a nice mild scent for those of you who appreciate subtlety. Chamomile, geranium, cherry pipe tobacco, and sage.