Your body is covered with light scales. As displaced air particles hit them, they rattle in complex patterns, sending waves of information to your nervous system.
Tremors come from below and you are dominated by pleasant and acrid perfumes. You tread lightly as each shockwave brings different shades of these smells: light as paper thin cartilage that floats and falls with the wind; a harmonious sharpness that cuts your nostrils in countless pieces; a long, protracted redness that turns into the smell of cured leather. And then all scents stop.
You touch the slick ground you are standing on; it is covered in dust and oil. You punch it, agitating particles that produce further vibrations and reach you as smells. A constellation of light dots intertwined with the rugged jank of burning wood. Bangs of decayed viscera, loud and all-encompassing — deafening perfumes that you pleasurably absorb as much as possible. They disappear in ever-thinning echoes of rattling scales which give you no sign of nearby danger.
You allow yourself to rest for a moment and shake your body, launching in the air scent-vibrations. You yell your name and smile at its tangy aroma. It is lemon-like, with shades of purple, given to you as it also meant the pulses of light within the nostrils of fur-covered sentient minerals. You hear no immediate reply. You repeat the process a few more times, again and again, only to be greeted with inodorous silence.
The lack of other olfactory impulses inspires you to sing. Rattling your body with precision, you first conjure the voices of dying insects which smell of charcoal and sweet greens. You follow it with vanilla covered in spikes, cinnamon muffled in fire and end it with the scent of abstraction: quick fading dissonant incense.