Scent Notes: Milky honey, fresh honeycomb, rice milk, a dash of cinnamon.

The land of milk and honey. The pastoral ideal. Utopia. These were the things he was searching for. He wasn’t asking for too much, was he? Probably, but he’d always had high ideals and aspirations, so why stop now? The ship had already sailed. Literally: he was aboard a ship, setting sail for a new land, hoping to make a new start. Sure, he was working aboard the ship to earn his passage and have some money in this new land, but what did that matter? They’d land and he would start afresh. 

He’d grown up in terrible poverty, begging on the streets, often sleeping on them as well. He became an orphan young, and had done what he had needed to do to survive, knowing he would work his way up in the world to a secure, hopefully wealthy, place. Eventually, a local blacksmith took him in, taught him the trade, gave him a safe place to sleep and simple meals to eat. It wasn’t perfect; the blacksmith had a mean temper that only got worse when he drank, which happened most nights, but he had lived in far worse conditions. 

When he’d escaped one afternoon down to the docks, for the blacksmith had started early that day, he saw the shipwrights at work. Intrigued, he wandered near them. When they took a break, he began asking them questions, seeing if they had need of an apprentice, if he could help them and escape the blacksmith’s worsening moods while learning how to take his blacksmithing skills and learn something new. He was a strapping young lad, streetsmart, with a baseline of skills that could be easily transferred. And so he learned to be a shipwright, and now he was aboard a ship he’d helped to build, sailing into the open ocean, going thousands of miles across the world in search of his bright, hopeful future, his own personal Arcadia.

Scent Notes: Milky honey, fresh honeycomb, rice milk, a dash of cinnamon.