The meal is over. One last small glass is set on the table.
Cool herbs, the sweetness of anise, the warmth of a blue flame left at the bottom of the glass.
Blue Flame begins in that glass.
It opens bright and bitter, like a lemon peel twisted between the fingers. Mint leaves follow with a cool breath, and dry coriander seed steadies it. A clean start, yet somehow already composed.
At its heart is sambuca. Not a sticky, sugary sweetness, but the cool sweetness that lingers in the mouth after a sip of anise liqueur. Mugwort draws a thin herbal shadow across it, and the scent gains a grain all its own, unlike any ordinary mint. Darker, quieter, legible only up close.
Later, vetiver and cedarwood trace the outline of dry wood, and benzoin resin adds a low warmth. White musk finally settles onto the skin, and the fragrance that began cold closes as a warm, languid skin scent, its sweet herbs still held within.
The end of a meal. Low light. A blue flame swaying in a small glass.
Blue Flame is that scene, made into a fragrance.