All I can think, looking at the line edits, is that I've somehow completely lost any ability I might ever have had to rub words together. Or balance a plot. Or handle exposition in a timely fashion.
Ah well. Thankfully, this is why I have an editor.
I guess this song is telling me that I need the damned dream sequences after all.
A scent as heavy as thunder from the Vatican, with notes that inspire every sin and excess. Black opium, with vetiver and honeysuckle.
Vial: herbs and flowers, kind of composty, with a bitterness that I think is the poppy juice.
Wet: honeysuckle and crushed herbs
Drydown: honeysuckle. Not too strong, thankfully.
Dry: faint, vetiver sweetened with florals.