Fillydelphia The Key & Paddock [Open!]

[Vintage]

"Th-That…that should be the last one…!"

In a recently rented storefront, a lowly mare teetered on a step ladder as she fit the last remaining cookbooks on a shelf. She took a moment to adjust her glasses, perching the thick spectacles back on her nose after wiping them against the hem of her knitted, earthy scarf. It was daunting and empowering at the same time. Would anypony bother even giving the store a second glance? Had moving so far from home been the right choice? It left butterflies brewing in her belly.

No, no, no! That was no way to think about it. Vintage was not going to be bested by some petty fears! She shoo'd those butterflies away with a shake of her head. Early morning to late afternoon had been spent with minimal breaks - dresses and thrifty clothing hung on racks, shelves stocked with antique goodies, books organized. Her inventory wasn't grand, to be exact, but she had an ample amount of wares that she hoped other people might find some interest in.

She stepped outside to get herself some air, taking in the balmy breeze that roiled through the town from Sandtrot Beach, ruffling her short mane and cooling her hard-working little pony self. She turned to look up at the wooden sign, hanging from a protrusion over the shop's door. "The Key and Paddock," the y in 'key' being a rather fancy looking key, and the o in 'paddock' taking the silhouetted shape of a lock. She smiled to herself.

"Maybe this will end up being a good thing, after all."

She disappeared back into the shop, finishing up before it was time for supper. Tomorrow, she thought to herself. Tomorrow is the big day!

- - - -

(Anypony feel free to post! x) I'm going to play it like it's technically the next day after this post, so don't worry about having to catch her before then. As of now, after this post, it's technically morning and the shop is open!)

[Chonico]

As Clay flew towards Fillydelphia, his satchel gently but tightly strapped onto his back, he could not help but be painfully aware of how early it was. Well, early by his standards anyway, he was sure most ponies woke up before the crack of dawn, not him though. The only things he liked about the mornings, was breakfast, and he had forgotten to get any before leaving his home.

"Maybe I wouldn't have forgotten breakfast if I hadn't decided to wake up and start prepping clay for when I came back from this trip…' Clay thought to himself as he flew into the outskirts of town stifling a yawn. Looking down from above, he could not help but wonder where to begin his search. The night before he noticed that the lock to his workshop storage was broken and the key refused to go into the keyhole. Since he kept most of his finished and unfinished wares in there, he did not want some curious animals wondering in and making a mess of things, something he learned was possible soon after he moved to the plains.

He circled around and quickly landed in an unfamiliar part of town. Since he hadn't been in that part of town before, he figured that was the best place to start. 'Excuse me? Where might I find a locksmith?' Clay asked a pony as she walked by. 'Oh? Try that place, I think it just opened.' Clay turned his head and noticed a hanging wooden sign that read 'The Key and Paddock.' After thanking the pony for pointing him in the right direction, he made his way towards the storefront. Upon reaching the door, he stopped suddenly, as if he had remembered something, and lightly shook his tail and stomped his hoofs on the ground to get rid of any dry clay that was stuck to him to avoid making a mess inside. With a slight smile on his face, he opened the door and went inside.

As he stood in the open door, his eyebrows raised slightly, as he still kept smiling, and ended up giving him a rather silly confused look. He stuck his head back out the door and looked up at the sign, then stuck it back into the store and looked around. Clothing, trinkets, and books adorned the store. 'They must sell more than keys and locks' Clay thought to himself as he kept looking around and walked into the store letting the door close behind him.

[Vintage]

Vintage was having a slow morning. Even though she'd expected it, it had been hard for her not to have high hopes about the place. She was nervous, anxious, excited, and all of those feelings had just been jumbling about in her little mind so much that she'd almost skipped out on breakfast. Hay waffles and a glass of apple juice were too tempting, though.

Her ears quirked forward at the familiar sound of the bell above the door, chiming through the sound of some Louie Hoofstrong playing quaintly out in the storefront. She glanced up in the back room, having been sorting through some records. "A customer...!" Ohdearohdearohdear. What to do? Go out there! Right, go out there and give them a warm welcome. Awkwardly adjusting her glasses, the mare stumbled over a box and hopped her way out into the store.

"H-Hello! Welcome to the Key and Paddock," she chirped, flicking the dust out of her tail. She had a bit of trouble keeping herself clean all the while, working with so many dusty things. She liked it, though. "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"

[Chonico]

As Clay walked further into the store, looking around at the trinkets, books, and clothing that adorned the shelves and racks, he could not help but wonder what kind of store this was. 'Maybe the nice pony outside mistook this store for a different kind of store. Maybe…' His train of thought was interrupted as he heard some stumbling noises coming from the back room. He turned his head to see a pink haired pony chirpily welcoming him into the store, as she exited the back room.

"Perfect, she must be the store owner.' He thought to himself as he let out a smile as soon as the pink hair pony asked him how she could be of help. 'Hi! I'm looking for a locksmith, or a place that sell locks and keys, and you have a tad bit of dust on the top of your mane.' Clay raised his hoof over his own mane and made a circle motion on top to mimic the area he was referring to. Then, extending one of his wings began to make a swiping arcing motion, as if showcasing the whole store, all the while as he kept making the circle motion with his hoof a top his head and continued to address the pony in front of him, 'Although, looking at your beautiful store, I can't help but think I've been pointed in the wrong direction…' He paused for a second realizing that he might look a bit silly doing both motions at the same time and stopped.

'But umm… Yes, you have a lot of interesting looking things here. What kind of store is this? Clay lowered his haunches a bit and sat on the floor, careful not to rattle his satchel too much, and looked at the dusty pink haired pony expectantly.

[Vintage]

In retrospect, the name of the store probably could've been a bit misleading to ponies. Maybe the idea of it representing the significance of unlocking trunks full of antique goodies was eccentric compared to the more common idea of the place being a locksmith. Maybe she'd have another little sign crafted to hang beneath it, saying, "Thrifty Items and Antiques." Her ears drooped a tad when he said he was looking for a locksmith, and a bit more when pointed out the bit of dust in her mane.

"Ah- heh. Thank you," she muttered, shaking her head to flick it away. "Yes, I'm afraid I'm not really in the locksmithing business. This is an antique store." She tipped her nose up as if gesturing to the store, herself. "Whatever things ponies don't want anymore, or things that ponies have treasured that they want to go to a good home - I sell those things. To put it so poetically, at least. A lot of ponies just think it's old, outdated junk." The mare shook her head, "I like to think that even if it's old, it could still be of some use to somepony."

She gave pause after a moment, "Comin' to think of it...I do have a whole box of old padlocks and keys. I think a few of them match up. What is it that you're looking for one for?" Vintage scooted her way over to one of the large window sills, mostly taken up by scarves hanging vibrantly to either side. Perched atop the 'sill, however, was a box with several miscellaneous old locks and dozens of tarnished, ornately crafted keys. When she looked back at him, she couldn't help but give a brief glance to his cutie mark, but not wanting to seem rude she didn't lean to the side enough to get more than a brief glimpse of a handle and some clouds. A pot of some sort, maybe? Hrm.

[Chonico]

As Clay sat on the floor, watching the pony in front of him, he could not help but notice that her ears drooped. 'Maybe I said something odd?' He questioned himself as he listen to her explain what her store was about. As she talked, he looked around the store, suddenly everything making sense. The clothing on the racks didn't seem to be of the latest fashion, although admittedly he wasn't the best judge of that. The books as well showed signs of their age, some well kept and some having seen better days. And the trinkets that lingered around the shop waiting to be picked up, some he had to admit he had never seen before. As he kept looking around the store, a sudden realization dawned on him as the dusty pink haired pony asked him what he wanted the padlock for.

Snapping out of his train of thought, he watched as the antiquing pony made her way to the windowsill, only barely noticing her throwing a quick glance at him. Trying to figure out what she glanced at, he began to think he might have sat on something so he stood up and began to make his way to the windowsill as well.

'I'm hoping to replace the lock on the storage room for my workshop.' Clay stopped for a second as his eyes did a quick scan around the shop. 'But, I realize I was misled by that kind pony outside who told me this was a locksmith's store.' He said with a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face. 'I don't think I've been in many antique stores and I have to admit you have a rather interesting selection of items here.'

Recalling what he was thinking of a second ago, he kept making his way towards the windowsill and stopped right behind the pony. 'Sorry…' Clay had a slight drooping to his own ears now, but kept a slight smile on his face. 'You have such a noble ideal towards these items that adorn your store, and here comes a silly pony completely missing the point of what your store is and asking if you are a locksmith.' He said letting out a shallow chuckle.

Placing one hoof to his chin and quickly put on a welcoming smile , Clay sat once again on the floor. 'An old friend and teacher of mine used to say that things are made to last generations. Whether it is clothing, art, literature, or simple household knick-knacks, it is all unique in its own way. Even if a pot looks like another pot, it is not the same. The hoofs that make it are as different as the ponies who make them and the ideas and emotions that go into making them. When something is broken, lost, or thrown away, then all that is lost with it. You can remake a pot, you can re-write a book, but it will not be the same. Treasure your masterpieces as well as your mistakes because within it lays a piece of you that can, and will, last generations to come.' Clay finished with a huge smile on his face that quickly gave way to a slight show of embarrassment as he realized that he was no longer sitting, but had stood up on his hind legs and extended a hoof up towards the ceiling as if pointing at something. Ashamed that he got caught up in memories of the past he quickly sat back down and lightly scratched the floor with his hoof. 'Hehe, my teacher was a potter and was somewhat odd, but insightful. I still have to keep relearning everything he thought me…" He commented as he rolled his eyes. "So umm, you need help with that box Miss…?'

[Vintage]

The mare's brows knit together as she heard the other pony apologize. Oh, good job, Vintage. You made him feel bad about you feeling bad. "Oh, no! No worries. This store is relatively new, anyway. I, ah...I just opened today, actually. Nopony but you has come in yet," she said, smiling, "so I guess that makes you my first customer." Even if it was somepony who wouldn't buy anything, he was still a customer. At his tangent, however, she'd take pause in her work and look over at him again. By the time he'd finished, her glasses had slid down her muzzle, mouth hanging agape.

His embarrassment only made her beam brightly at him, "Those are very true words to live by! And it's exactly why I started this shop. I want to share that dream with others. It's lovely to be able to craft something that is truly one-of-a-kind, and had all of the artist's love and effort put into it." Vintage nodded at the box, "Even those have to have been made the same way. And feel free to take a look at them, see if you find any you might fancy. If not, I'm sure I could point you in the…general direction of the locksmith." She was pretty sure they were nearby. Or something. She'd have to consult her handy-dandy map for that.

A brief pause, and she'd tilt her head to the side, "I don't want to be nosey, but with a workshop and a teacher who fancies pottery…are you in the trade, as well?" Silly question, but she thought she'd ask. She knew next to no one in Fillydelphia as of yet, really. "Gah - my manners, sorry - my name is Vintage. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

[Chonico]

'My name is Nimbus Claypot, Miss Vintage. But, you can call me Clay, for short.' Clay addressed the antiquing pony with a slight bow of his head and a bright smile on his face as he became relieved that his walk down memory lane hadn't been too awkward. Taking the box from Vintage, Clay gingerly placed it on the floor in front of him as he began to scan the contents. 'I wouldn't worry too much about having to point me in the right direction, you already have. I already see some padlocks in here that I'd be more than glad to have adorning my workshop.' He announced in a cheerful voice as he began to pick-up a few of the padlocks from the box and turned them around in his hoof. 'If the keys match, it's even better!' And with that, his hoof disappeared deeper into the box.

As he continued looking through the box of padlocks and keys, his ears twitched left to right, as if mimicking his thoughts as he decided which padlocks to set aside so that he could find a key for. 'Am I in the trade as well?' His face expressing a bit of confusion as his head slightly tilted to the side. 'I'm surprised you have not heard of me yet, Miss Vintage.' Clay stood up and smiled at Vintage as he raised his wings a bit and puffed out his chest. 'I… am Clay, The Clay Hermit' A puff of dust became clearly visible as he patted himself with his hoof on his chest. 'Well, that's what the ponies in town call me anyways.' He kind of cringed a bit as he realized he had just introduced himself as being a hermit. 'Heh… I am a potter and I have a workshop out in the Saddleveil Plains. But I'm not a hermit, I just hardly ever get any visitors out there.'

Suddenly realizing why Vintage had glanced at him earlier, he began to undo the strap on his satchel and quickly placed it on the floor, careful not to let it drop suddenly. He then turned his body to the side to show off his flank and, raising his wing so as to not cover his cutie mark, placed a hoof on his satchel and smiled. 'I came from Cloudsdale, and my goal is to one day make beautiful ceramic pieces that don't fall through the clouds.' And no sooner had he said this, his hoof lifted the satchel's flap to make the contents visible. Small and intricate pots and vases were clearly visible. Some had intricate glazes on them were more simplistic but with beautiful detailing. 'A trade? While I look at your beautiful antiques, you can look at my ceramic pieces. If you are not too busy that is.'

Clay was more than happy to answer questions about his work, especially when he was meeting new ponies. And, if there was one thing he enjoyed more than his work, even if his teacher had scolded him plenty of times for it, it was hearing praise for it.

[Vintage]

Vintage was, perhaps, not the best choice to become a shop owner, but it was something that she desperately wanted to do. She was too afraid of klutzing up and seeming awkward sometimes that it only lead her to klutz up even more. On the bright side, it was more of a first impression kind of thing, and once she started talking to someone she seemed to become more comfortable. Mister Nimbus Claypot was proving to be a good example of this.

"I'm so glad, then! The accident of mixed-up shop signs ends up being a happy mistake." She sat and took one of the padlocks, figuring she'd make shorter work of it for him if she helped out. Several keys were passed through in an attempt to fit them into the lock, but to no such avail. "I'm more than certain the keys for these locks are in here, somewhere. Or at least a skeleton key of some sort, until you could get a new key fitted for it."

The dusty-colored pony glanced up when he introduced himself further, nudging her glasses back up into place, "The Clay Hermit? I-...hrm. It sounds familiar, but...I suppose I don't know too many people here, yet. I've only visited a few times with my family, and I've only more recently moved here."

When he turned to show off his cutie mark, the mare would smile, pausing in her work. "That's a lovely dream. I've seen some pottery made from clouds, but never any that could be universally used. It would certainly be something to see!" Then he revealed the small workings he'd had tucked away in his satchel. She let out a small "Oooh," and nodded to him, "Alright. That sounds like a fair trade to me."

Carefully she picked out one of the small vases from the top, turning it delicately in her hooves, "This is so intricately designed! I can tell you must've worked hard for a long time to make something this pretty. The curve of the neck is so smooth."

Vintage wished plenty of times that she could be good at any sort of craft. With knitting, the yarn always tangled and knotted. Drawing was futile, as all she could ever hope to draw were mediocre stick ponies. As for pottery, that was simply out of the question. No doubt she'd just end up with a horrendous looking lump that couldn't hold anything but someone's disgusted attention. It didn't really bother her, though. In her own way she was creative - having an eye for detail and being able to organize things in her shop took creativity all on its own.

"Do you come here to town to sell commissions for others? Or other places in Equestria?" She kept the idea of perhaps commissioning him in the future in the back of her mind. A vase would look nice with some flowers in it, out on the sill of one of her apartment windows.

[Chonico]

Still smiling brightly at Miss Vintage from her compliment about his vase, Clay quickly lost track of what keys he had tried with which of the 7 padlocks he had set aside in hopes of finding a key for. Quickly looking down at his unfortunate mess of mixed up keys thanks to his lack of attention, he was suddenly reminded of the time when he had begun traveling with his teacher and his daughter, when he was still a young colt. While at an outdoor art festival in Hoofington, he dug too deep into a pot he had on a spinning wheel and cut right through it, destroying it, when an on looking pony praised one of his finished vases. This caused his teacher to smack him on the top of his head as he repeat the ever so familiar phrase 'Don't be so eager to receive compliments for your work. Everything has a time and place, so pay attention.' This was usually followed by his daughter sticking out her tongue at him, and him sticking his out in return, a reflex that even now took hold.

As he reflexively stuck his tongue out at the air, he was snapped back to the present as Miss Vintage asked him about his commissions. Tongue still sticking out, he quickly looked at her and smiled as he pulled it back into his mouth. *ahem* 'Yes, I do take commissions although most of my buyers already know my style and are usually ecstatic with what I bring into town.' He threw a quick glance at his satchel as it sat on the floor near Miss Vintage. 'I come into towns like Fillydelphia and Ponyville about 2 or 3 times a week depending on the weather and how far I feel like flying. Used to come only once a month to get supplies, but now that I have enough wares to sell on a bigger scale, I can afford the energy to fly here more often.' Clay smiled in relief as he unfurled his wings a bit to stretch them and gently tucked them back into his sides.

'Actually, I love a challenge, so if you have one for me, I am more than happy to do it at a discount for my friends. In fact…' Clay put down the padlock and key he was currently testing on the floor and stood up and walked around to his satchel and sat back down next to it. Sticking his nose inside it, he began to gently sift through the vases and pots he had rolled up in newspapers, trying to find a specific one.

A few seconds passed by and eventually, 'Ah ha, this is the right one I think.' He pulled his head out and unraveled a rather small, but long necked pitcher that was buried deep down in his satchel. The overall design of it was similar to that of a pocket watch's outside casing. The handle was made to look like a linked chain that wrapped around the better top half of the neck and then lazily draped over the side in an arc and connected to the bottom part of the pitcher. The mouth of the neck had a small round ball atop it, made to look like the link where the chain connected to the watch. And, the bottom half of the pitcher had a countryside scene etched into it that wrapped entirely around it. The scene was that of ponies working old tools and in funny hats while working an apple orchid. As for the finishing glaze on it, it was one he had made himself and had applied lightly to give it an old, slightly tarnished look to it.

Holding the pitcher in his hoofs he looked at Miss Vintage and with a bright smile on his face began to show it off. 'This was supposed to be a commission, but the pony that requested it didn't like it…' He said with a slight tinge of insult in his voice. 'Still, I believe it to be one of my better pieces, so, shame if he had actually taken it… Might have stuffed it in a closet by now if he had.' Clay looked at the pitcher in his hoofs and then looked at Miss Vintage as he cocked his head to the side a bit with a curious look. 'Odd how things work out, but!' He extended his hoofs out and with a renewed smile on his face kept addressing the antiquing pony.

'Welcome to Fillydelphia Miss Vintage! Hope you stick around for a while, we could use more locksmithing shops around here.' Clay offered the gift to Miss Vintage as he made a slight joke of how he ended up at such a curious shop. 'Oh, and this isn't just because your cutie mark is a pocket watch, that was just an interesting happenstance.'

[Vintage]

The thrifty mare, herself, had always been more humble than a piece of bread. Perhaps it was the way that her family hadn't been truly that wealthy, or the way that she just came off as her father's daughter in how she kept old things, not only for their charm, but for durability and practicality. "Use it up, wear it out - make it do, or do without," he'd tell her. Several pairs of pretty boots and saddles she'd stared longingly at from the other side of a shop's window had gone un-purchased in her filly days, instead finding the coziness of a pair of well-worn boots and a thick, striped scarf incomparable. Over the years, the style itself had grown on her, and her father's philosophy soon became her own.

She glanced up at him again just in time to see him sticking his tongue out. She made a face of her own, an expression teetering between the voids of amusement and puzzlement. "It must be quite nice to be able to fly. Getting anywhere by hoof proves a challenge." With that, she went back to work, looking for a key to one of the several padlocks splayed out while he had busied himself with something in his satchel. She'd stuck an ornately crafted key into an equally ornate padlock when he'd revealed the beautiful vase. She must've looked quite the sight, sitting there dumbly with her thick glasses drooped down her nose, mouth slightly agape. "O-Oh my...how could somepony not like it? Stuffed in a closet...! Such nonsene!" She hadn't really expected him to offer her a vase right then and there, but the grin that replaced that silly hanging of her lower jaw proved that she was pleasantly surprised. A small click sounded from the lock in her hooves before she set it down.

"I-...thank you! For the vase! And the welcome!" A light tinting of blush flourished across her cheeks and nose as she carefully took the vase. The handle, the decorative painting, the entire presentation. It was totally epic. Small chuckle was offered at the locksmith bit, "Heheh. Then I'll be sure to keep the locksmithing shop open for a while, in case somepony comes in with a real problem. Like their back hoof handcuffed to their front." Why anypony would be in that predicament was beyond her knowledge. "They can listen to Colttrane while I break out the bobby pins."

A moment's pause and she'd chirp a small, "Oh!" Setting the vase carefully on the counter, she held up the lock again, "I think I've found a match. Will this one do?" It had been forged out of an iron that had long since tarnished, but its face had been crafted with a leaf pattern. The key itself matched with a similar leaf symbol carved out of the loop. She gave Clay a tilt of her head, "How about you take it in exchange for the silly mix-up and the vase? You're my first customer too, and I couldn't have asked for anypony more enjoyable to meet on such an occasion." He was certainly more entertaining than someone who would've probably come in, browsed for a moment, and then left.

[Chonico]

'You are quite welcome.' Clay said with a smile on his face. 'And if I ever find myself in such a predicament as handcuffing my hoof to some part of me, I'll be sure to stop by for your expertise.' He let out a laugh as he continued the joke.

As Vintage made her way towards the counter to set the pitcher on top of it, Clay kept on smiling as he relished in the fact that he had found such a worthy owner for one of his pieces. He began to scan the store again, this time seeing everything in a renewed light. 'I wonder what situations or events lead to these items finding their way to such an interesting antique shop as this?' He paused his thought process for a second as he observed the gifted pitcher that now rested on the counter. 'Maybe one day that will become an antique as well.' The scene from some archeology/adventure novel quickly followed that thought as he laughed lightly to himself.

"I think I've found a match. Will this one do?"The question suddenly snapping him out of his archeological adventure ridden imagination. He took the padlock in his hoof and began to examine it as he listened to Vintage offer it in exchange for the mix-up and the vase. The padlock had been one of the ones he set aside in hopes of finding it a key. As tarnished as it was, it was exquisitely crafted in his opinion and the leaf pattern only added to its allure. He began to picture it on his storage room door, and could not help but feel a bit of shame knowing that it was going to be attached to such a dirty door as the one that currently led to his workshop storage room.

Still holding the padlock in his hoof, he thought of something that his teacher would have told him if given the chance. 'A masterfully crafted padlock to protect my own masterpieces… This will do more than fine, Miss Vintage.' He shot the antiquing pony a smile quickly followed by an expression of curiousness. 'And it was no silly mix-up that I ended up here. Treasure your masterpieces as well as your mistakes because within it lays a piece of you that can, and will last…' He trailed off as he repeated what he had said early and looked past Vintage at the gifted pitcher. Turning the key in the padlock, it gave off a small click, and Clay turned his gaze back to it and put on a content grin. 'I found what I was looking for and I do believe I've made a friend.'

Placing the padlock on a nearby table, he made his way to his satchel and opening a side pocket, Clay pulled out a small jingling bag which he quickly set on the floor and then proceeded to close the satchel and work it back onto his back. 'Plus, as I am your first customer, and an enjoyable one at that.' He said as he winked at Vintage. 'And as a friend, I wish you success in your own endeavoring art to help these items find new life and new homes. And as such, I do believe you should be able to adorn your beautiful shop by framing your first earned bit… Or at least that seems to be the custom in most shops.' He commented with a smile on his face as he picked up the padlock and his small bit purse and walked past Vintage towards the counter.

[Vintage]

"I wouldn't be surprised," Vintage said, "If it did become an antique one day. All things that are passed along from hoof to hoof are, eventually." She smiled at him, "Perhaps someday when we're all old, some little filly or colt will find it in their grandmare's windowsill and be so taken by it, they'll want to start collecting antiques or make pottery."

When he accepted the padlock, she nodded, "I'm glad that it's finding a home, where it'll be used and appreciated again." In a way, it was a bit like sending a foal off on their first day of school. Or maybe he knew the same feeling whenever he sold one of his fantastic pieces of pottery. At his philosophical statement, and his further statement of making a new friend, a humble smile would tug at the corner of her mouth. "The one thing that truly defines an antique - at least, I like to think - is the sentimental value that it holds. All of the memories that it was a part of. I'm sure I'll never know all of the memories that ponies had about all of the items in the store, but in a way, that's what has given the items their character. They're forever a part of history." She waggled her hoof gently, "And off I go, rambling again. My apologies." With a shake of her head, a bit more dust poofing out from her mane. "I'm glad to have made a friend, as well. You seem like such a nice pony that I think it'd be hard for anyone not to make friends with you!"

The rosey-maned mare tilted her head when he pulled out a bit purse, "Oh...you don't have to pay-" She paused at his reasoning behind her first bit for the shop. "I-...well, yes. I suppose so. It's good luck, I think, to frame your first one." She glanced towards the storage room, trotting over, "Actually, I think I have a little frame back here, somewhere...!" A bit of rummaging, a small squeak and boxes toppling sounded before the little mare came out once more, again covered in dust, but triumphantly holding a small, simple frame in her mouth. It had been delicately carved with the pattern of roses, and the glass was slightly clouded with dust. She carefully took it out and reached under the counter for a rag to clean it off with.

[Chonico]

As Clay stood by the counter watching Vintage make her way to the back to search for a frame, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Setting the padlock and bit purse on the counter top, he quickly undid the tying on the purse and began to look through it with a slight jingling sound. 'Don't know how much an antique padlock is worth, but…' Clay mumbled to himself as he began to take a couple of bits outs. 'Can't be more than what I have in here, could probably buy the whole box of padlocks with this…' His ears slightly fell a bit as the thought crossed his mind.

Admittedly he did well for being an artisan, his pieces usually sold really well and with what he made he could afford his supplies and still have enough to not be in need. However, thanks to his family's business, his parents always made sure he had more than he could probably spend in a month, insisting that although he wasn't helping with the business and his brother was the one running it, he was still a part of it and paid him the adequate salary; something he had tried and failed to change. He hoped that by calling himself 'Claypot' instead of 'Clayton' they would understand his want to make his own way in life through his own means but… 'Family is family' He whispered to himself as he let out a shallow sigh.

As he stood blankly looking at the items on the counter, his train of thought was quickly broken as he heard a squeak and the sound of falling boxes coming from the back. With one quick swoop of his hoof, he poured the bits back into his bit purse and dropping it on the counter turned to make his way towards the back, hoping he wouldn't have to dig Vintage from under a pile of boxes. However, as he turned, he was rather surprised when he saw her come out covered in dust holding a frame in her mouth. 'She's an interesting one… and resilient.' He could not help but think as she placed it on the counter, took out the glass, and reached for a rag to wipe it down. As she did, he began to look at the frame as it sat on the counter. 'Impressive, simple theme, and yet elegant, gives me an idea for a piece or two of my own.' He commented with a chuckle as he stood in front of the counter and then smiled as he observed Vintage begin to wipe down the glass.

'Hmm, would you like to frame a new looking bit or an older looking bit?' Clay asked as he began to take out bits from his bit purse again.