Her hair was pale and colorless in the moons thin light. She wore a white cotton nightgown, with a high lace neck and a hem that swept the ground. Shadow sat up, entirely awake. You are Zorya Polu . . . , he hesitated. The sister who was asleep.
I am Zorya Polunochnaya, yes. And you are called Shadow, yes? That was what Zorya Vechernyaya told me, when I woke.
Yes. What were you looking at, out there?
She looked at him, then she beckoned him to join her by the window. She turned her back while he pulled on his jeans. He walked over to her. It seemed a long walk, for such a small room.
He could not tell her age. Her skin was unlined, her eyes were dark, her lashes were long, her hair was to her waist and white.
The moonlight drained colors into ghosts of themselves. She was taller than either of her sisters.
She pointed up into the night sky. I was looking at that, she said, pointing to the Big Dipper. See?
Ursa Major, he said. The Great Bear.
That is one way of looking at it, she said. But it is not the way from where I come from. I am going to sit on the roof. Would you like to come with me?
Pale amber and ambergris, gossamer vanilla, moonflower, and white tobacco petals.
This one will get a lot of love.
Gossamer is the perfect word for Zorya P. I get mostly what I'm thinking of as a lunar vanilla. Moonflower, ethereal vanilla, evoking bluish-white colors for me. Everything else is too blended for me to pick anything out. I'm amazed at what seems to be the tobacco petals -- for anything tobacco-like, it's such a light touch. But there is a slight grounding influence it's giving. I keep getting a stronger floral impression than just moonflower, and I think it's that.
I'm relieved not to get saltiness from the ambergris; the note comes out more on my skin as this dries. I don't smell amber but there's a fullness to the blend that I associate with it.
This is gorgeous and smells to me like the signature blend of underworld's kindest ghost.