"And I prefer that it says inside of me… and you a good few feet away."
"For most, the smell would bring up memories of a cafe, or the first days of Autumn and candles… But for me it brings up my earlier memories as a Guardian.
It was until the mid 1940s that I had a life like most Guardians. No sickness would come over me. My body would heal normally… And within the time that World War Two came to a close, I made my decision to be somewhat human again.
That same year, in the Winter, I found myself terribly sick. I gathered as many medicines I could… Herbs and teas. I was prepared for the worst. Still, the Tsar watched me on my first year. I assumed he believed I would regret such?
Moving on.. I had small recipe books here and there. Things I collected from families who lost lovers, ones who moved and left materials behind, and what not. One night, with some warm milk, I experimented with a pie. Ground cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.. That smell hit my nose too wonderfully. It was the first smell of my somewhat human life that I remember.. And being sick made it hard to smell anything. While I don’t cook it much anymore, I’m so thankful for this little slip of paper that allowed me such joy that night. After that, I was able to get better.
The smell of pumpkin spice is something I cherish. Candles will never replace it. Those special coffees will never do the same. And some nights, I can still smell it between the cracks of my palms.”
Send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.