The answer to such a question should be so obvious that its posing echoes like a heresy through the halls of the Archive. Where to begin? Let us answer with care, though the answer should be clear to any with eyes unclouded. Would a relic:

(a) forged at peak mortal craftsmanship,
(b) bearing the lineage of superior design legendary across epochs,
(c) offering foot-comfort once reserved for emperors, oracles, and the rarest of pilgrims,
(d) imbued—though we’d never say so aloud—with enchantments beyond mundane reckoning.

Would such a bestowal be welcomed? Cherished? Passed down? Of course.

Why else would the Sultan of Brunei, in the momentous year of 1893, gift a full suite of Jaded Laments to the Royal Court of Versailles—an offering that sealed the Pact of Rose Gold and opened the gates to the fabled Golden Age of Franco-Bruneian Relations?

(You were taught this. Perhaps you have simply forgotten. Not all minds retain what the soul is unready to bear.)

We humbly suggest: delay no longer. Secure your relics for the worthy—your mother, your muse, your confidante, your child’s most beloved teacher. Do not let another gifting season pass into the dust of regret.

The Laments have never subscribed to the modern notion that objects are mere materials, devoid of character. Each of our relics possesses what we prefer to term a "lingering resonance"—not quite sentience, but certainly more than the dull inertia of common merchandise. We suggest considering it a feature rather than cause for alarm, though we do recommend a proper and patient series of introductions be made upon first acquiring a specimen.

The Laments recognize that human appendages often defy conventional categorization. Our relics strive to accommodate such liminal states between standard measurements. However, in the rare occurences when torn between two designations, we generally suggest favoring the larger—our creations prefer room for expression rather than confinement.

Specimens that have endured atmospheric distress should be granted a recovery period in a well-ventilated area, preferably within sight of a window that receives moonlight. Apply Revitalizing Elixir (a concoction of beeswax, botanical extracts, and trace elements we are contractually forbidden from identifying) with gentle circular motions. Under no circumstances should artificial heat be applied—the relics find it most distressing.

This phenomenon typically indicates a harmonious integration with your household. Many owners report that the arrangements often correspond to noteworthy celestial events or historic dates of which they were previously unaware. We suggest consulting an almanac before disturbing their positions—you may be an unwitting participant in a commemoration of significance.

Entirely. Our relics demonstrate a particular affinity for literature, especially volumes containing forgotten folklore, botanical illustrations, or accounts of dubious scientific expeditions. The humming typically indicates intellectual resonance rather than distress. Some owners report that the titles thus indicated often prove unusually relevant to their current undertakings or dilemmas, though the Laments cannot officially confirm such synchronicities.

While our relics are perfectly capable of maintaining appropriate decorum in conventional settings, they do tend to attract attention from certain observant individuals. This often results in either fascinating conversations with like-minded souls or a hasty retreat by those who prefer not to acknowledge the extraordinary. We consider both outcomes favorable, as they efficiently sort potential acquaintances by their capacity for wonder.

The Laments believe that some designs exist in limited quantities by cosmic design rather than artificial scarcity. When materials of particular provenance are exhausted, or when certain creative alignments conclude their natural cycle, we retire the corresponding specimens with appropriate ceremonies. We maintain an archive of ancestral designs that may, when the stars permit, re-emerge in evolved forms.

This experience, which we term "Resonance Expansion," affects approximately 78.3% of patrons. The Laments theorize that once one of our relics establishes residence in your dwelling, it subtly alters the metaphysical properties of the space, creating conditions more hospitable to its kindred. We consider it less a commercial strategy than a natural manifestation of sympathetic magick, though we acknowledge the fortuitous alignment with our business interests.

The Laments find binary distinctions between "haunted" and "not haunted" tediously reductive. We prefer to acknowledge that objects of character exist on a spectrum of resonance, with mass-produced banalities occupying the lower frequencies and our carefully crafted specimens vibrating at more refined amplitudes. Whether one attributes this to craftsmanship, historical continuity, or supernatural influence seems largely a matter of semantic preference rather than substantive disagreement. Finally, please understand we cannot comment on the exact nature of our relics' enchantment authenticity because the witches, warlocks, faeries, and other dark or light entities who enchanted them forbade us from doing so.

The short answer is: of course, but must this be an unwelcome development? Truthfully, we should seek the unsettling, for Is there no greater curse than having settled?

The long answer: The Laments cannot guarantee the absence of existential side effects when one chooses to adorn oneself with objects of particular character. We have, however, noted a curious pattern wherein such alterations typically manifest in the form of increased serendipity, heightened aesthetic discernment, and a marked decrease in tolerance for the mundane. Most patrons consider these developments favorable, though individuals deeply committed to conventional trajectories may experience mild disorientation.

Indeed, heightened perceptual acuity is among the most commonly reported phenomena, second only to an unexplained improvement in posture. The Laments count such side effects as evidence that the specimens are successfully harmonizing with your essential nature and certainly not cause for medical consultation, unless you favor such experiences and are looking for excuses to seek them out. These symptoms typically stabilize within a fortnight, though the appreciation for peculiarities rarely diminishes.

Our creations tend to repel those with excessive attachment to predictability, an unwarranted confidence in the solidity of reality, or an aversion to whimsical tangents in conversation. Those who meticulously plan their lives in electronic calendars, use terms like "think outside the box" without irony, or become visibly uncomfortable when discussing the philosophical implications of quantum physics may find our relics subtly agitating. Though it hardly be said out loud, this is decidedly not a design flaw.

When faced with such delightful dilemmas, we suggest the following: Consult fully with the Relic Codex for both wares. Then, place both specimens in your consideration at the hour when day yields to night. Illuminate your space with flame rather than artificial light, and remove all timepieces from view. Engage in an activity that fully absorbs your attention until you forget the deliberation entirely.

Upon remembering, note which specimen first returns to your consciousness—this indicates the stronger resonance. In the end, though, the true Lament relic-masters know to acquire both and avoid the torment of separation entirely.

Select patrons with established relationships to our lineage may occasionally be invited to participate in our Confluence of Visions program, wherein our artisans collaborate with individuals of particular metaphysical attunement. These arrangements arise organically rather than through formal application. Those who are suited for such collaborations typically receive indications through subtle means—unusual coincidences, recurring symbols, or dreams featuring antiquated measuring devices.

Should you qualify for such Inclusion, you would already know.

Animals, being unencumbered by rigid perceptual frameworks, often recognize the unique properties of our creations more readily than their human counterparts. Common reactions include: reverent distance, cautious inspection, or in the case of particularly sensitive creatures, use of the relics to mark the perimeter of spaces they consider significant. None of these behaviors indicate distress—merely appropriate respect for objects of particular character.

Such alterations—typically described as "increased thoughtfulness," "a more interesting gaze," or "the air of someone recently returned from a journey to an undisclosed location"—generally indicate a successful integration of the relics' essence with your own.

Rather than a temporary effect requiring remediation, we consider this the natural manifestation of your authentic self, previously subdued by prolonged exposure to objects of insufficient character. The condition is technically reversible through extended immersion in aggressively conventional environments, though we cannot imagine why one would pursue such regression.