The first thing Rosy smells is the ocean. Not from the beach, but from a cliff standing over the sea, with the mélange of smells from the scrubby brush all around and the salty, briny whiff of the water, and she tries to remember if she’s calling to mind a specific trip to the ocean, or if she just has a very specific affection for cliffs over beaches. She also smells freshly cut grass and what is probably the school gardens in the spring, old books (the ones that smell like a library and not the ones that smell like dust and must), and goddammit is that pumpkin spice, she swore she’d never admit to her love of pumpkin spice.
Rosy smells like her shampoo (cherry blossom), her lotion (vanilla), or whatever the library smells like? MAN IDK.