Lü Bu
by Sora Dora
Black and gray fall on the plain. In the half-light of falling mists clinging to the relief, Lü Bu. He stands out, a folded shadow - the sublime fog of battle's end. Almost dead, the once most feared man of the Empire, son of iron and fire, betrayed by his own people, then traitor to the Kingdom, devours himself with his own legend.
In a dense, obscure and magnetic fragrance, SORA DORA today marks its rebirth. Like an olfactory scar, the scents - direct, almost metallic - open with vivid, tannic clove, drawing in their wake the acridity of blood on a still-warm blade. When the heart beats harder, between the first shock and the silence, a piece of Armenian paper burns - a forgotten altar - while the iris, noble and powdery, whispers the hero's solitude.
More than glory and power, Lü Bu speaks of sacrifice and memory. A fragrance like an oath. It doesn't try to please. Chooses you as a weapon offers itself to its warrior. Loyal to all those who wear their shadows with pride. Whose presence is an epitaph. Whose silence is a declaration.
To your battles.
PRE-ORDER
£170.00, 50 ml EdP
Out of stock
£6.00, 1 ml EdP
Sample discount program
Out of stock7 tokens, 10 ml EdP
What's this? Learn more
Black and gray fall on the plain. In the half-light of falling mists clinging to the relief, Lü Bu. He stands out, a folded shadow - the sublime fog of battle's end. Almost dead, the once most feared man of the Empire, son of iron and fire, betrayed by his own people, then traitor to the Kingdom, devours himself with his own legend.
In a dense, obscure and magnetic fragrance, SORA DORA today marks its rebirth. Like an olfactory scar, the scents - direct, almost metallic - open with vivid, tannic clove, drawing in their wake the acridity of blood on a still-warm blade. When the heart beats harder, between the first shock and the silence, a piece of Armenian paper burns - a forgotten altar - while the iris, noble and powdery, whispers the hero's solitude.
More than glory and power, Lü Bu speaks of sacrifice and memory. A fragrance like an oath. It doesn't try to please. Chooses you as a weapon offers itself to its warrior. Loyal to all those who wear their shadows with pride. Whose presence is an epitaph. Whose silence is a declaration.
To your battles.