Scent Notes: Sandalwood, allspice, sweet rich musk, firewood, vanilla, paper, ink and oak. The lighthouse keeper found themselves staring out across the vast horizon. Again. Classic lighthouse keeper behavior. They broke their stare and glanced around the room. A small fire burned in the hearth, a small pot of wax warming gently in a little pot, and stationary lay scattered around the desk. They walked over and sat down. They'd finished the rum last night, and the empty bottle sat at the edge of the desk. Choosing a quill, they dipped into the ink pot and scrawled a short letter. It was to the Sea Hag. Their letters were always addressed to the Sea Hag. Once a month the new delivery of supplies came in, and the driver always snuck a bottle of rum into the crate. Maybe the driver felt pity for the lighthouse keeper, or perhaps he just thought it a nice treat, who could say? The lighthouse keeper appreciated it nonetheless, partially for the rum, but also for the corked bottle. Each month when the rum was gone, they'd write the Sea Hag. She never wrote back, and the lighthouse keeper never knew if she found their letters, or if their declarations of love were lost to the tumult of the sea. They finished the letter, signing, Forever Your Love, Ember. They pushed the cork in nice and tight, then dipped the tip of the bottle in the hot wax. They pulled on their boots and coat, and climbed down the rickety stairs to beach-level, and shoved open the door. "Damn sand," they grumbled, and walked out to the furthest rock that jutted out into the water. Waves crashed around them and salt spray splashed onto their face. Winding their arm back, they threw the bottle as hard as they could bear. "Find'er this time," they said, and stayed there for a moment, staring out across the endless surface, just in case she appeared.
