Mori

"Do you have something.. dark?" There's a strange clatter as an inky gleaming fae sets a claw on the counter. "Something dramatic?"

She tilts her head at a odd but flattering angle."Something to prepare the soul for the coming darkness of winter..."

"Are these perhaps the remnants of a still life? Seafood, spices, oils... Oh but the glowing bauble, yes I see... A boudoir scene? That hardly seems appropriate for the medium of stained glass, on display for all to see. Although yes, it does appear this shell is a vessel for some form of cosmetic. Ah, ah, now I have it. Look at this shadow here, and this curve of white being lit by the bauble's glow. I think it is the Memento Mori. The subject holds the trinkets and baubles of vain life, blithely self-absorbed, while the mirror reflects the faint skull of Death, who waits for us all."

"This one I know. Deep do the memories of this place run in all my kind, for here we once were formed. The tools of the jeweller, the clay of the cast, the heavy wood of the bench. Long did the silversmith toil in the studio, shaping and sawing, heating and tempering, forming and pouring, stern and clever claws polishing our bezels until we were complete. Ah, my gemstone heart quavers to see it, this antique glass so narrowly preserving these ancient ways. May our memory be long. May we never forget our origins, and the days when we awoke, on the mirrored glass of the boudoir tray, the day we escaped the jewelry box."