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How good it felt to have a few pieces in his pocket. It wasn't much, but three hundred was enough to weigh his pocket down contentedly. Of course, said three hundred pieces would, unfortunately, be spent soon enough when Carwyn bought himself his weekly ration of food and paid a bill or two, but it was good to think of himself as rich for at least a few minutes. Still, he loved what he did, and that was the important thing, even if it left him scraping the bottom of his pocket for some extra change.

The route he was taking to the grocery store was new, as he had never performed at the location he was coming from before. That meant he passed by locations that he had never passed before, and that included a store aptly named "Solace Scents." He had heard a few passersby mumbling about the store, and it piqued his curiosity, but he never found out exactly why they were mumbling.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look inside, right?

Carwyn stuffed one hand in his pocket to hang onto his money while he used the other to delicately push the door open. He slipped inside without notice, intending not to be noticed so no shop owners or cashiers would attempt to goad him into buying something. All he wanted was to see what was inside and leave.

At least the peak inside made the name make sense. There were shelves and shelves lined with scent oils, some of which he had never seen in his life. He had seen some of the more common ones, like simple lilacs or strawberries, but the ones that caught his eye were the more unique ones of the bunch; the ones that had odd names or were reminiscent of events in his life that he personally thought could never be captured in a scent oil form.

Some of them did a better job than others. He scrunched his nose in revulsion upon daring to sniff a vanilla flan fragrance. That was not at all how he remembered the intriguing dessert, though that may have been because he had not had the luxury of eating intriguing desserts since the last time he tried celebrating his birthday. ...Not that he remembered when his birthday actually was.

On the other hand, there was a scent sitting beside it. "Churros?" He must have been in the dessert aisle, if a churro counted as a dessert. He remembered the fried taste of the sweet churro well. He had happened to catch a whiff of a churro one day in his travels and decided to make the vendor's life just a bit easier by purchasing one of the fresh treats. Carwyn hardly regretted such an action, even if the meeting he had been heading to turned out rather sour.

"I'll have to give it a whiff--oh!" That was exactly how he remembered it! His nose drew him closer to the scent, begging him to take another whiff. Carwyn's ignored mouth began to water upon recognition of the familiar scent. Too bad he lacked any churros to eat! The scent tempted him too much and so he put it down, but he could not tear his eyes from it. Just because he could not eat the delicious churros did not mean he couldn't smell them all day, right?

No.

His nagging frugal sixth sense told him that his three hundred pieces were for standard needs, such as paying bills and eating a bit more than a meal or two daily. Food became expensive very quickly, after all. But oh, how badly he pined for it! "No," spoke Carwyn aloud, arguing with himself. "If there's a little bird on your shoulder telling you that you cannot afford it, you cannot afford it." Unfortunately, his figurative nagging bird just was not enough to ease the urge.

Carwyn knew he would regret it later, but he swiped the scent oil off the shelf, grabbed a nearby burner, and skittered over to the cashier. As soon as she told him the price, he slapped down the exact change without another thought and then promptly scampered out of the store, wanting to get as far as possible before he forced himself to give the scent back and get a refund.

Instead of heading to the grocery store, which was near his home anyway, Carwyn burst into his bachelor's pad, slammed the door behind him, and set the brown paper bag on the nearest table. He tore the bag open and took out the scent oil, setting it on the table.

Oh, how it mocked him. How could he spend much needed money on such a pathetic indulgence?! He was acting like a prissy girl! Oh, no matter, how it didn't matter. All that mattered now was that he had this delicious scent. He could order some food and have it delivered to the house; a large pizza could last him at least two days. All that mattered now was lighting the oil before his frantic mind forced him to give the delicious scent back.

The thin man reached for the little box he kept all of his matches in. He popped the box open and looked inside, only to find the tin bottom. How?! He dropped the box on the table irritably, glaring daggers at the box briefly before shaking his head.

What terrible luck he was having! How could he have no matches? Matches were essential! Groaning, Carwyn stormed back out of the house. That little scent would not have long to mock him!

Ha! Success! He grasped the matches in his hand as he stormed into the house, a victorious little smirk on his face. Well, that thing was done mocking him now! He struck a match against the box before storming over to that candle, flaming match in hand. Of course, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to light the match before getting over to the candle, but Carwyn didn't even care at this point. He just wanted to smell the delicious churros that enchanted him so much during a few of his routes!

Flaming match to candle. Candle flame to scent oil. Scent to his nose. It took a few seconds, but soon, the smell of the delicious churros filled his nostrils. Aaah... Carwyn grabbed a chair and plopped himself in front of the scent oil, a grin on his face forming that reminded of the cat who ate the canary. It had taken him hours, but now he finally got the victory. He hadn't wasted his money after all! Now he got this delicious smell for a while.

Granted, the oil would run out eventually, but he needn't think about that now. He shook the thought right out of his head before standing up and heading to the telephone. Perhaps he should order some food that he could eat while smelling the delicious churro scent.

...Perhaps he should get some fresh churros, too. The delicious smell of thge churros was beginning to make him drool.

Speaking of the churros, he turned his head to look at the scent again while dialing the number. Then, he dropped the telephone. It banged against the wall as he stared at the scent oil, dumbfounded. What was the smoke doing? Was it forming into the shape of a churro? Well, scent oils weren't supposed to do that.

He went a bit closer, rubbing his eyes along the way to make sure that he didn't have anything in them. No, it was smoking alright. That wasn't right at all. Maybe he should put out the flame. ...No, he'd keep it on, it smelled too good. Nevertheless, that shape made him weary. What kind of shop of witchcraft and wizardry had he gone to that a scent oil's smoke was making such strange shapes?

No, he had gone to a normal scent oil store. That was a silly thought. Perhaps he just needed some food in his system to stop the illusion before his eyes. Yeah, that was it. It was time for a lot of Chinese take-out...

He was out of churro scent? Carwyn could hardly believe it. Sure, the oil was doing freakish things such as smoking in the shape of churros and swirls, but it was still his scent, his oh so delicious scent... Carwyn wiped some drool from his lip, sighed, and then grabbed another match. Well, he might-as-well enjoy it. He could always go get more, even though a starving musician should not be spending that much money on scent oils. Certainly, there were more important things, but Carwyn decided to shake those thoughts out of his head and just light the candle.

The scent wafted to his nose as he plopped down near the scent oil. It now sat on the coffee table in his living room, in front of the couch Carwyn called his bed (or ended up sleeping on more often than his bed, anyway). He pulled out a book of music and opened it, scanning over the songs to learn a few new ones for his next performance. Carwyn read the music by the candlelight; therefore, he squinted and cringed when the light seemed to become brighter. Did that dysfunctional ceiling light turn itself on again?

He looked up. ...No, that was off. Then where exactly was that light coming from? Carwyn slowly looked down at the coffee table, and when he did, he slammed back against the couch and nearly bowled it over in the process. His music book dropped to the floor from his trembling hands, and he stuttered and blathered on in confusion and disbelief.

The smoke was forming into something! It wasn't supposed to be doing that. It was, well, weird smoke that swirled in the shape of various swirls and star forms. It wasn't supposed to be forming the outline of a person, and certainly what little that was left of the scent oil was not supposed to be filling that person in.

Perhaps he had been right in thinking that he had gone to some scent oil shop of witchcraft and wizardry. After all, it was not every day when scent oils began to take the shape of a freckled young boy... BOY?! Carwyn lept up and flew to the corner of the room, terror written on his face. This was witchcraft and wizardry! His delicious churro scent oil had turned into a rather adorable little boy! What was the meaning of that? It hardly made any sense! It needed to stop looking at him with those eyes, too...

"Hello!"

It talked, too! Carwyn screeched like a little child getting their first shot, cowering further into his little left corner. "What do you want and where do you come from can you go away that would be nice thank you take an exit to the right that door over there is waiting have a good day."

The little boy tilted his head. "You talk really fast. Can you breathe properly?" He suddenly looked very concerned. "Do you need CPR, Dad?"

"DAD?!"

"...Well, yes. You're my dad, aren't you?"

...Great. Now he had a strange witchery kid that had emerged out of his churro scent oil that thought he was its father? Wasn't there some way to get rid of it? It was freaking him out! All the same, though, those eyes made him feel terrible for wanting to boot the boy out on the streets. He couldn't do that. Even if it was a kid from some freakish magic, it was still a kid and he needed to watch after it. Unfortunately. He didn't have enough money or rooms in the house for another life, especially one that young.

"I guess I am now. You got a name?"

The scented child shrugged. "You haven't given me one yet. How's about Ce--"

"Celyn! That's perfect!"

"Dad, I was about to suggest Cesar--" Carwyn cut off the young boy's complaints by grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room.

He turned over his shoulder as he dragged the newly dubbed Celyn across the floor. Carwyn was ignoring the oil tracks currently, but he would probably end up regretting such actions later. "You're Celyn now! Now, come, I'm getting you food whether you want it or not." Not letting the strange witchery child even open his mouth to attempt to argue, Carwyn plopped him into an extra chair and headed to the refrigerator.

Even if this wasn't going to be good, Carwyn could try to make the best of it. Maybe. Perhaps. Perhaps in a million years. He would try anyway, though. The freckled child was just too adorable.