Oooh, you spooky bitch. Most of the time, people deny your existence, because you don’t show up until the last possible moment, or exactly when the plot dictates your arrival. When you do make your presence known, however, holy shit: you walk into the party with a gigantic army of followers and now nobody can deny how spectacular you are. *slow clap* We all know you’re the frozen part of the story; the icemaker, the Snow Miser (whom you happen to look a bit alike, no shade), and yeah, all your followers are actually walking, fighting ice zombies, but who cares? You are a MAN, and you know how to command a crowd. Plus, your eyes are such a stunning shade of winter blue. Whether they like it or not, you’re the reason for the season, the true King of the North, and an all-around badass. We’d join your cause but, you know what? We like being alive, thanks. Now please, take your ice dragon and go… well just away from here is fine.
Scent notes: An abandoned wood cabin in the middle of the forest, the spicy aromas drifting through the air of a Mediterranean bazaar, black musky ancient catacombs beneath the earth, somehow full of sandalwood musk yet no living soul can be seen, the bodies of hundreds of men lining the walls, threatening to tumble onto you and trap you for eternity in their hallowed, haunted hallways.