House of Guerlain

Oasiz Server, Deathstalker Castle / City of Immortalis.

.....Once upon a time .....
a lady arrived.
In the City of Immortalis.
Her name?
Mánŏn.
Mánŏn Guerlain.

She would go on create
The House of Guerlain, Perfumery.

The stuff of legend?   Famine or fame ?
Only time would would tell.

~*~
19 High Street

The House of
Guerlain Perfumery.

In a world filled with immortals and vampires, kings and queens, princes and princesses, criminals, vagabonds and wanderers, fire breathing dragons and shapeshifters, dwarfs and elves, centaurs and harpys, mermaids and minotaurs, satyrs and assorted winged creatures, etc, etc, and etc, I am remarkably unremarkable.

I am simply..... a human.
A woman.
An artist.

I harbor no ill will nor ill intent towards you. I thank you in advance yours is to show me the same curtesy.

With that said....... do come in then, and be welcome.

liquid perfections.... silent expressions.

~*~

Working spaces
a tiny window into
how perfume is created.

~*~
Second floor living spaces

Atticus's gift
so that I may always have music to dance to.

Thank you, Atticus.

~*~

We go out for a walk, Lilly and I. A little walk about town kind of thing. Enjoying the sights and sounds, the scents.
Until.

Lilly disappears.
Only to return with her prize, her steal. Presenting a flower from a Vendor, to me with such a smile who could become angry?

She has no coin of course, so I pay up, mollifying the enraged Vendor. But. Behind that enraged face, he's laughing. I can tell. I speak harshly to Lilly about the perils of stealing. For she would be tasty fried and served with catsup.

~*~

Lilly and I often wander....
to the Valley of the Horses.
While there I harvest wild flowers growing in rich profusion. 
The splendor of their scent is no comparison to their cultivated cousins.

And then we hike to a rocky outcrop to just watch these majestic creatures at play on the hills and in the fields of their sacred valley.

Occasionally ..... I am gifted to ride.
I've no idea who such a generous benefactor could be. Only a beautiful horse, tacked up, my name on an otherwise blank envelope attached to the saddle. There is never a signature. nothing inside the envelope. Not a hint as to who it could be. The script is not by the hand of woman. The strokes are far too bold. I am grateful to whomever it may be.
Lilly stays behind, curled up in a cave, and dreams of this and that, waiting my return.

Other that that, as for Lilly & me,
well....
we lead quite the simple life.

~*~