Opals the colour of held breath, ringed in twisted silver and punctuated by garnets that catch the light like embers. The chain is worked in tiny scrolled links — the kind of patient handwork the Austro-Hungarian tradition was known for — and it gathers toward a lozenge of cabochons at the throat, a single large stone at its heart.
Each opal carries its own weather: cool milk-white bodies that break, when the light turns, into sudden flecks of blue and green fire. The garnets keep them honest, deep and warm against all that silver.
Marked sterling. Oxidized to a soft, worn patina that suggests it has been admired before, and will be again.
For the collector who dresses in restraint but keeps one thing that glows.
