Warmhoney Milk — Crystal — Zalera

Warmhoney was born with a different long forgotten name into a family of healers belonging to the Orl tribe. During their journey through Coerthas, believing they would succumb to the harsh climate, his parents gave up their newborn son to travelers bound south. They were unable to join the travelers, as they were the tribe's only healers, but begged of their kindness all the same. The travelers begrudgingly accepted, unaware of the terrible fate they rescued the child from, and, once they reached their destination of Gridania, surrendered the boy to an orphanage. Here, the boy was given another name that has also long been forgotten and briefly kept, for at the age of 5, he was set to begin training as a fledgling conjurer. His mentor believed proper conjurer training to be a pilgrimage through the Shroud to acquaint oneself with the elements, thus the boy was released into the woods, ordered to pilgrim through the Twelveswood and return once he's learned something. As children do, he quickly became lost, and never found his way back to Gridania. A few days became a week, which became a month, which became a declaration that the child must've been taken by beastkin--a sad fate, yet a quick method of weeding out the weak who weren't fit for the art of conjury anyway.He lived in the Black Shroud as a nameless orphan ever since, not remembering how or why he got there, though not questioning it and accepting the Shroud as his home. His sole company was a brown chocobo plush (his one keepsake that he's had since birth) named Chocolate, who he loved as a best friend and believes entirely to be alive. He's versed in the magic of conjury, though doesn't understand it as "conjury", only as "magic what comes from this 'ere walkin' stick!" (The walking stick being a very battered conjurer's staff that looks like an ordinary stick). He lived a simple and happy life, wandering the woods, eating foragables and slugs, climbing trees, or laying in the grass to watch clouds.One day a branch snags on Chocolate's chest, tearing it open. His healing magic does nothing to mend his friend, and so he decides he must journey to "The place of people" (a city), as city people, for what limited interaction he's observed of them, are smart and wise, and they will surely know how to fix what his magic cannot. He travels very far, up north into Coerthas, hearing that the best craftsmen congregate up north (referring to Ishgard). Wandering into a camp, he spots a gang of merchants loading shipments--of which includes bundles of blankets and textiles--into caravans. Suffering from the cold, he sneaks into the caravan and hides within the blankets, not understanding the crime in this, but only wanting a warm place to rest.As it turns out, the caravan is bound for Ishgard. He's discovered as soon as the merchants begin to unload their cargo, but he escapes them wrapped in a blanket, let go as a vagrant who will surely be handled by temple guards soon enough. He doesn't find much trouble in that avenue, though having very little social skills, he spent his first day in the city getting barked at by merchants or hiding in alleys or on rooftops, sobbing that his friend must be fixed, as she is the more capable of the two. City people have names, and he does not, for he never needed one. But Chocolate has a name, she is well equipped for city life. Without her, he will surely perish in this strange place.He's discovered by the owner of a small cafe called Serpent and Lily one night, rooting through sacks and crates behind the store for food. The owner is accompanied by a friend and fellow business owner, who lets him inside. Warmhoney is given dodo omelette, fish pastries, and warm honeyed milk to eat while the owner's friend, a weaver by trade, sews Chocolate's wound up with golden thread. Warmhoney loves the drink so much that he decides it to be his name, and swears to the weaver that she has made a friend for life, having fed him and healed his best friend. The weaver tells him he ought to thank the owner, as it was her decision to let him inside and feed him.Now (not that the owner had the heart to turn a lad such as him away back into the street) he works as a barista at Serpent and Lily, slowly coming out of shell and shyness towards city people. He loves his job, and after hours likes to return to the wilderness to gather raw ingredients for the shop. He struggles with understanding basic words (and is absolutely the barista who will write your name wrong on your cup every time) but he only means well and is happy to help whenever he can.