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Iolite,
or, more properly, cordierite, is a lovely orthorhombic, very hard,
silicate gemstone. It is also known as water sapphire. It
is dichroic or polychroic, which means that it looks different colors
from different angles. Iolite has become a very popular gem
recently, called "the poor man's Tanzanite" by some, and even recently
found its way into the Tiffany catalog. The faceted stones in the
above necklace (except for the golden vintage glass) are iolite.
The round stones are bloodstone, another of my favorites. |
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As noted earlier, we do accept PayPal.
Other
forms of payment (and swaps) welcome as well.
Kiitos.
Click here to go to Ragnar's Ragweed Forge dvb has some lovely and interesting inscribed jewelry
"I don't see why women love jewelry so much," said a male friend of mine the other day. "Just think of all the toys you could buy." I smiled, leaning back in the recliner and stretching one hand out to see the reassuring ruby glint. "The jewelry is our toys," I replied, letting my hand fall. His normally sardonic grey eyes reflected a chronic frustration. Fortunately, we had read a lot of the same literature. "Just think of the gold lust of all the dragons of old, you know? For gold and gems?" "Well, yes," he assented reluctantly. "So think of women as dragons in disguise." "Well, that would solve a lot of things," he admitted. He didn't entirely believe me, but he couldn't refuse the idea either. That conversation contained enough truth to stick, enough fabrication to be safe. Heck, I don't know why non-draconic women like jewelry -- heaven knows the stuff they sell today is hardly dwarven-crafted. I mean, look at this tiara. Wait, where'd it go? I know it's here somewhere. I keep my favorite pieces here by my bed of cedar branches, but sometimes when I change the boughs and freshen things up stuff gets rearranged. My hoard has less yellow gold than most, as I do prefer gems and white or blue metals, so this piece won't stick out like it would among Cciarhinga's treasures, say, or Blood Sable's. With a breath of white fire I light the row of torches along the nearest wall, and their flickering light is tossed in many colors about the foothills of treasure. Ah, there it is! I reach over with a foreleg green and golden and russet, hook a long black talon through the open white circle of metal. Right, look at this. Empire of Thunder, Daervin's mountain forge, maybe 600 years old. Platinum alloyed with brugellia, that blue metal lost with Atlantis. Ceylon sapphires so small it's hard to believe they're all hand cut -- all twelve hundred of them! Gossamer-like filigree that has withstood the grinding of metal on metal for 400 years or more. Three emeralds of a green that today is only achieved with heat and chemicals. Made for a princess? Hardly. A journeyman weaponsmith (not even a jeweller) made it as a gift to a younger sister on her wedding day. I took it with many other things from a dead and burning village -- but I killed the sneaky troll bastards first. No survivors in the village. A shame. Tiaras not your style? How about this aquamarine ring, a stone regaining popularity in the mall shops. An oval stone maybe three-quarters of an inch long, set in some two-toned filigree more white than blue. At first glance almost standard fare. But look closer. The white shapes are cavorting mermaids, their arms and flowing hair the supports for the gem. The glue glints are hints of waves. Below this seascape the band is yellow gold, well worn by some lady's hand. Empire of Thunder, Beringa's last forge. Seven to eight hundred years old. |
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