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phoolofficial · 1 year

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Sandalwood Incense Sticks: Unleashing the Timeless Aroma of Tranquility

Immerse yourself in the captivating world of Sandalwood Incense Sticks, where the aroma of serenity intertwines with the essence of ancient traditions. In this blog, we embark on a fragrant journey to explore the allure and therapeutic benefits of Sandalwood. Let the warm and woody fragrance of Sandalwood transport you to a realm of calmness and inner peace.

The Mystique of Sandalwood:

Sandalwood has an enchanting fragrance that has captivated hearts for centuries. Its woody and earthy notes bring a sense of grounding and tranquility. Burning Sandalwood Incense Sticks releases this alluring aroma, creating a sacred ambiance that soothes the mind and uplifts the spirit.

A Symbol of Spirituality:

Sandalwood holds profound spiritual significance in various cultures and belief systems. It is often associated with purification, spiritual awakening, and connecting with higher realms. Sandalwood Incense Sticks are used in sacred rituals, ceremonies, and meditation practices to enhance focus, channel positive energy, and invite divine blessings.

The Therapeutic Essence:

The therapeutic benefits of Sandalwood go beyond its captivating scent. Sandalwood Incense Sticks are known for their calming and stress-relieving properties. The aroma can help alleviate anxiety, promote relaxation, and induce a sense of peace. Its grounding nature assists in quieting the mind, fostering clarity, and encouraging a harmonious state of being.

Transforming Spaces and Moments:

Sandalwood Incense Sticks have the power to transform any space into a sanctuary of tranquillity. Whether you are creating a sacred corner for meditation or seeking a serene atmosphere to unwind after a long day, the fragrant embrace of Sandalwood can elevate your experience. Embrace the ritual of lighting a Sandalwood Incense Stick and let its fragrance envelop you in a cocoon of calmness.

Embracing the Essence of Sandalwood:

At Phool, we honor the rich legacy of Sandalwood by crafting exquisite Sandalwood Incense Sticks. Each stick is carefully handcrafted using sustainably sourced ingredients and traditional techniques. Our commitment to quality ensures that you experience the pure essence of Sandalwood with every burn.

Unleash the timeless aroma of Sandalwood Incense Sticks and invite serenity into your life. Allow the captivating fragrance to envelop your senses, awakening a deep connection to your inner self and the world around you. Discover the transformative power of Sandalwood with Phool's authentic collection of incense sticks and embark on a fragrant journey to tranquillity.

Read: Top 5 Dhoop Stick Scents for Meditation and Relaxation

#phool #organic #incense #incense sticks #agarbatti #incense cones #incense burner

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youwouldntlietopapa · 8 months

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The Words That Were Never Spoken: Chapter Two

Your alarm barely beeps before you turn it off. You’ve been awake for at least an hour, still lying in bed, staring at the far wall of your room without really seeing it. Lost in your thoughts and the remnants of dreams. Trying to breathe through the anxiety twisting like eels in your stomach. Any thoughts of butterflies passed while you tossed and turned just trying to sleep at all. These are not butterflies. And while your stomach roils, your mind isn’t any more relaxing.

It all feels so foolish. Terrified of your friend. Because you can’t convince your stupid heart that it’s enough to have that much, not to be greedy, to push your luck. But you close your eyes and there he is again. Painted in perfect detail. Every freckle and line, every hair of his moustache and the moss green of his eye, the dusting of grey at his temples you would give anything to run your fingers through.

“Stop.” You say sharply to no one but yourself, forcing your eyes open. It’s too early to be falling into this nonsense again. There’s a whole day ahead and you gave your word you’d be there. Helping him. Not acting like some lovesick teen.

Forcing yourself up and out of bed, you walk over to your small personal altar. The onyx Baphomet, a small replica of the one that towers over the altar in the chapel, stares impassively back at you. Lighting the cone on incense in the burner, you breathe in the deep woody smell, the floral notes, and the spice. Letting it wind its way around your mind and your heart, settling into your bones before your morning prayers. The same as always, then giving thanks. Until you’re standing there, staring back into the unblinking eyes of the statue.

“Please…” Your voice comes out small and quiet. Terrified of being heard and terrified of not being heard all at once. “Please, I need guidance. I can’t let go but I can’t risk losing what I have. I need… something. Anything. A sign. Please.”

Fool. Begging and getting weepy. Exactly what the Old One looks for in his servants. As if he weren’t more concerned with more important things. And you’re here asking for a sign.

You shake your head and give your eyes an annoyed swipe. Traitors both. What you need is a shower, not a sign. Reaching for your towel, you decide a cold shower might be worth it. Maybe that will wash all the stupidity and self-pity off. Something in the ceiling groans and you can’t help feeling like even the building itself is agreeing.

It groans again and you look up, wondering how worried you should be about that noise.

Just as the pipe bursts.

Showering you, as desired, in freezing cold water. You, your bed, your entire quarters, all showered as the water pipe continues its deluge.

“Shit.” Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Someone is knocking at the door and it takes everything you have to not yell at them to go away. Instead you squelch across the drenched rug and pull the door open, dripping and feeling like a few hours crying might not be such a bad idea. There, smile falling from his face as soon as his eyes settle on you, is Copia. Earlier than you’d expected and every bit as lost for words as you are.

“You’re soaked.” He finally manages.

“Yes.” You agree.

“It looks like a pipe burst.” He adds, somewhat unhelpfully.

“I came to the same conclusion.”

“Your room is flooded.”

“Copia?” You say calmly.

“Si?”

“Would you mind calling maintenance and asking them to shut off the water over here, please?”

It takes another fifteen minutes before maintenance gets the water shut off. By now, everything you have in your room is soaked through and water has started flooding out into the hall. The small bathroom off the main quarters, at very least, has remained dry and Copia was good enough to fetch you an oversized towel to wrap yourself up in. The two of you standing outside your door, talking with one of the workmen sent to inspect the damage. You don’t need him to tell you it won’t be a quick fix, but he tells you anyway, and you head back in to grab your toothbrush at least while you try to figure out where the hell you’re going to stay for the next few days and ignoring the thought of having to replace everything you own.

Copia follows shortly after and you’d know that tentative knock anywhere. “Come in, Cope.”

He peaks in, ready to look away if you’re doing anything private. Instead, he finds you leaning against the sink, hugging yourself, toothbrush in one hand, and trying not to cry. The day has hardly begun and it’s already a disaster. He scoots inside, shutting the door behind him to keep out the workmen and the siblings eager to find out who’s responsible for the water shut off, and hurries over.

“Sorella,” his hands are on your shoulders and you all but collapse into his arms. “It will be all right, si? They fix it all in no time, I promise.”

The worries of the morning, the day dreams, even your pleading to the Old One seems so far away. You bury your head in his shoulder, giving up and crying. “It’s not just the pipe, Cope. It’s everything… books and letters and pictures… everything. And where am I even supposed to stay? He said it would be days… a week maybe. Or more. I don’t know what to do…”

“Shhh…” Copia pulls you closer, his hand rubbing slow circles over your back. He ducks his head next to your ear and lowers his voice. Sounding as clear and confident as you’re sure you’ve ever heard him. “You are not alone here, si? I don’t just abandon you here with this shit. You are my friend. My dearest friend. You need help? I help you. Always. We find a way, together, to make this better. Now, please, look at me, tesoro.”

You don’t argue. Pulling back from his shoulder and staring up at him, looking like a mess and a half. His arms release you so he can dry your face, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Together, angelo mio. As always, no? We find a way.” He accepts your weak nod as a yes. “And you have a place to stay. You know this. You stay with me.”

“Cope, no. I can’t ask-”

“You don’t ask.” Copia cuts you off. “I am telling. You stay with me. Unless you are going to tell me I am so horrible you can’t stand to look at me for so long?”

The smile tugging at the corner of his lips and the mischief in his eyes wins a snort and a head shake. “You are such a pain in the ass.” You tease, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him again. Longer than, maybe, is usual. “But you’re my favourite pain in the ass.”

He chuckles and kisses your temple, hugging you in return. “That is a relief. I would hate to be only a second class pain in the ass.” Copia leans back to look at you. “We find you some dry clothes first, I think. And then breakfast.”

Breakfast. The original morning plan comes rushing back. “Shit, I forgot about the archives. Copia, I’m so sorry. I don’t really need breakfast, I’ll just grab a coffee.”

He’s already waving away the apology. “Keep forgetting the archives for now. How many times do you tell me they will still be there later, ah? Dry clothes. Coffee. Food. I will make it an official order if you need, Sorella.”

That really does get a laugh. “Sweet Asmodeus, no! Not the scary Cardinal voice! I give! I give! Consider the archives forgotten.”

He offers his arm with a chuckle. “Good. I’m fucking starving.”

……………….

It was not the time to be thinking about you in your soaked nightgown. Even less the time to be thinking about how sheer it was when it was soaked. And certainly not the time to consider how cold the water evidently was. Copia cursed himself as he hurried you down the hall toward his own quarters and away from the crowd of Siblings who had suddenly appeared. To save you the embarrassment, of course, and not some private jealousy at the thought of any of them seeing you like that.

“This is all my fault,” you say, glancing back at the crowd of annoyed faces and curious ghouls.

Copia snaps back to reality and frowns. “None of that. You don’t make the pipe burst. You don’t flood your room on purpose. You are not in charge of the shitty pipes in this building.” He looks at you teasingly, trying to get a smile. Anything to chase away the tears. “Unless you don’t tell me. If you are, I need to talk to you about my bathtub drain.”

There is the smile he lives for. The tiny crinkle at the corner of your eyes and the way you shake your head. The nudge in his side he knows is coming. “That’s right. I’m moonlighting as a plumber. You’ve discovered my terrible secret.”

He laughs, slipping his arm free of yours and wrapping it around your shoulder. If you’re making jokes, it’s a manageable problem. One he can help with beyond being a shoulder to cry on. The sick, helpless feeling in his gut that always grows there when he can’t offer anything of real use starts to settle. “Oh good. The tub really does drain slowly.”

The Hallway looms ahead. That most vile of sights when he is with you. The spot where he’s let you go more times than he cares to think about. The spot where you said those words, still echoing in his head. But the sun pours in through the windows and the halls are full of the sounds of people. Not the dark, private spot where his heart tries to beat its way out of his chest just to follow after you. And, for once, there is a real joy in seeing it.

Not as if you’ve never been to his quarters. Of course you have. But it’s not the same. An evening of chatting or watching movies. Talking about life or consoling one another over the troubles of the day. Until it’s time to leave. Until it’s late and you say you really should be going, early mornings and work, not wanting to keep him up any later. You could stay, he thinks each time. You could stay the night. With me. Right before he says goodnight and kisses your cheek goodbye.

This time is different. Please, let it be different.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me staying?” You ask, waiting as he unlocks the door.

“Mind?” He smirks while his head screams at the thought of letting you walk away again. “Of course I don’t mind. I tell you already, this is your place, whenever you need. Unless you… want to stay somewhere else? I don’t make you stay if there is somewhere better.”

Why even say that? Why? His mind hisses.

“What? No!” You swat his arm and chuckle. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd. All my favourite things are here. You, video games, terrible movies, snacks. Everything a girl could want.”

For a man who’s dying on the inside, he does a remarkable job of staying on his feet. He even manages to laugh. The door to his quarters swings open and he lets you in ahead of himself, being the gentleman. The gentleman who needs a moment to catch his breath and to make sure his face isn’t giving away every thought racing through his head.

“You look like you are freezing, Sorella. I get you something dry to wear. A hot shower maybe? And I get us some breakfast, si?” He offers and hurries to find something that might actually fit you that isn’t black slacks and shirt or a cassock.

What he ends up with is a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt he isn’t quite ready to admit is a bit snug these days. The rest, he’s sure, you can manage yourself, waiting until the bathroom door closes to collapse onto the couch. One quick text to Aether asking for a food delivery, making promises he’s sure he’ll regret later, and he drops his phone on the coffee table. Slumping forward and burying his face in his hands, groaning to himself. Just barely covered by the sound of the shower starting in the next room.

It wasn’t the soaked nightgown. Not really. Not when his mind races back to the memory. It was the look on your face. That defeated look, the hurt in your eyes. It was the desperate, overwhelming urge to hold you tightly and keep you safe from anything or anyone who would make you look that way. It was you, leaning against his side because you needed comfort and found it in him. It was the way you shook and cried, and trusted him to be strong when you couldn’t be. It was everything. Holding you close and feeling, for once, like he’d found something he could do, with every ounce of himself, that he could be proud of, that he could devote himself to.

#ghost fanfic #copia x reader #MDNI

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