Louder and louder, wilder and wilder, mounted the shrieking and whining of that desperate viol. The player was dripping with an uncanny perspiration and twisted like a monkey, always looking frantically at the curtained window. In his frenzied strains I could almost see shadowy satyrs and bacchanals dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds and smoke and lightning. And then I thought I heard a shriller, steadier note that was not from the viol; a calm, deliberate, purposeful, mocking note from far away in the West.
A ghoulish and tortured scent, suffused with the blackness of space illimitable: ajowan, vetiver, black musk, opoponax, mimosa, and tamarind.
Tortured? Hmm. Unsure. Black and spacious, definitely, with the musk hovering in the background, with a sharp & present floral note in the foreground. A pleasant scent. A touch sophisticated-- wear it while dressing up.