send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.

ROSES:
                            She’s reminded of slithering, quiet and small, through soft grass; roses, flowers everywhere, birds chirping; a happy couple, frolicking naked in the meadow like they had the entire world to themselves. —And they did, until her.

CIGARETTES:
                                    Laughter and smoke and fat men groping her ass everywhere she looked, and she’s about to turn this soiree into a bloodbath until a strong arm wrapped around her and suddenly the smell of smoke is stronger, but the hands make her feel safe so everything’s okay again. And she’s in control, because she knows he’ll make a quick excuse to his ” friends ” and then they’ll go up to the motel, talk and smoke and fuck and smoke some more. The ash tray was always full.

LEATHER:
                                Sparta, they chant, over and over again, feet pounding rhythmically on the ground beneath them, weapons clanging as they raised their fist in the air. So loyal. She hung back, near the blacksmiths and their ilk, watching—always watching. It was a new year, the     g o d s     had blessed them this year; they were all getting new uniforms. Steel was beat onto leather, leather was beat into weapons, strapped onto feet and pounded into helmets. They would be victorious again, surely.