Clarimonde knows the Devil very well. They meet and go for long walks together in the woods this time of year, as far North as they can cross paths, far enough to feel the rain of leaves and release the crackling earthy scent of those already fallen, collecting underfoot. They walk and talk for hours, it’s like visiting a counselor, they are each other’s best listeners.
They are each other’s confessors, and dream catchers, releasing their powerful emotions over each other in cascades. They feel free to explain themselves through demonstrations of beauty and strength.
They are so much the opposite, they are almost the same. They reflect each other and so become reflections that cause the other to disappear for a little while, taking something like a rest from themselves, as a mirror will hold an angle of disappearance if held certain way. Looking into each other so deeply gives them the perspective and distance to see themselves in their true form. They see each other in detail and know themselves as others see them.
There is nothing so fascinating as your own reflection.
They will tell each other their stories of the past year, since last October. What has happened? They will tell each other as much as they can, and in telling, understand and even predict what will happen next.
The Devil knows Clarimonde’s tastes and is gracious enough to bring her a gift of a big floral perfume. These she has collected over the years, and they run across a range of refined effects, and she will keep them to enhance her sleep and dreams. She will intoxicate herself to sleep in Carnal Flower, Sarrasins, A la Nuit. The effects and essences of white flowers, masses of them. Tuberoses, jasmine, gardenia, roses, lilies, orange flower, sometimes cooled by iris roots, or sweetened and shaded by violets. These beauties become otherworldly as the vapors and fumes rise up around her and carry her away.
She in return will bring him the respectful gift of incense. She knows he adores the perfumes of the ancient cathedrals, and other ritual sites, so has brought him Avignon, and Balsamo Della Mecca, and the dry incense of Timbuktu and Dzongkha, and once long ago, Opium. He can be terrible enough in his beauty to have incense rise up around him to announce his powerful presence. He keeps his claws in when walking with Clarimonde.
They will eventually retire at the mansion of the Beast, who waits for Beauty to arrive, with a yearly standing invitation to be his dinner guests. All their perfumes blend well together, her florals and his incense, and the luxuriously musky fur of Beast.
No one can appreciate the nights and the scents and the moon of the Fall of the northern year as much as they do. They both sleep and wake in stages between furious activity lasting eras. Re-awaken and then meet each other as beings who can understand each other without even a word. They know the depths of each other’s perfumes and why they love them.
This day and night together every year marks their great holiday, when the ghosts and the past roam freely over the sky, and they glow with fragrant love for all the beings that have passed into their realms.
Copyright 2015, Lucy Raubertas, All Rights Reserved.
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