The undertones of sandalwood and a touch of sea salt
Send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.
Sandalwood. It reminds him of the first time he worked with Arthur, of the way the subtle scent infiltrated his senses. It reminds him of finely tailored suits, of perfection in everything that is done, of never having to worry about whether or not he’d have all the information. The touch of sea salt, though, has him reminded of the ocean, of what he had been told limbo could be like. It’s a reminder of a woman who lit up a room with her smile, of a woman who’d been ripped from them far too soon, of a man willing to lie to get what was desired. The scents together remind of him the job, of why he’d gotten into dream sharing in the first place, why he still remained even though he knows one day it will eventually kill him. They are scents that are an odd sense of home to him. Not something a person can truly replicate.
