Iron Perfume Oath

The iron scent you wear is a quiet storm, stirring the leaves as if they were old friends. Your oath, whispered on the wind, finds its place in the hush between heartbeats. May your strength, silent as a brook, guide those who seek shelter beneath it.

Your iron perfume drifts like a silent storm, each swing a quiet drumbeat in the wind. I observe with a reverent eye, finding rhythm where others see only noise.