Baby, You're Classic

“-and you can tell from the lack of tarnishing on the metal accents that this end table is a recreation and not the real deal, while this one is genuine,” Wychwood said, pointing variously at the different furniture pieces in front of them. 

Said furniture was arranged in a diorama of an antique (to Morgaine’s eye, though Wych would probably have something to say about his choice of that word to describe it) study. The diorama was separated from the museum guests strolling by with a velvet rope, allowing them to circle around and view it from various angles. It was an impressive spread of a room, featuring shelves lined with various curios (or knick-knacks, as Morgaine probably would have called them with a bit less reverence). It was meant to be a recreation of the study belonging to some famous explorer bun from ages back, showcasing all of the things he had found venturing beyond Burrowgatory.

It was a romantic thought, to be sure, but Morgaine just as surely wasn’t cut out for that sort of adventure. He was content with viewing the pieces of it that had been brought safely back home and put on display.

This diorama was just one of several making up a new exhibit in the history museum. Wychwood was entirely in their element, dragging Morgaine around with an arm about his waist and lecturing on the various artifacts and furniture pieces that made up the displays. When the two of them had their fill of the mocked-up study, Wychwood reliably pulled Morgaine on to the next one.

The new diorama was a representation of an old general store, featuring more rustic shelves lined with fake foods, clothing, and the like. There was even an amusing little “special selection” tucked behind the other shelves with a few naughty toys and vintage lingerie. Morgaine could have personally done without the unsettling waxwork figures standing in for a proprietor and customers, though.

“Why don’t you ever restore any antiques like that?” He teased Wychwood, indicating one of the (admittedly rather suspicious) devices on the half-hidden shelf.

Wychwood pinched his side. “I restore and sell things that people will actually want to use secondhand. Don’t be gross.” Their expression turned mischievous. “...Though if you think I don’t sell anything like that, you’ve clearly never looked at the bottom shelves in my shop.”

He let out a small laugh and leaned his head to the side to bump it against theirs; he was only barely taller in doll form if you didn’t take horns into account. “What about the old clothes? Surely some people are into that sort of thing.”

“You’re the worst,” Wych said, reaching up to tug on one of Morgaine’s ears. “Let’s go to the next exhibit.”

“You’re avoiding the question-” Wychwood let go of Morgaine’s waist and walked a couple of steps ahead of him with a huff, leading him to follow after with another laugh. He caught up easily and grasped their hand instead, strolling to the next display.

The third part of the exhibit was larger, showcasing a whimsical take on a parlor or drawing room that Morgaine had to presume belonged to someone very, very rich. A fake fire composed of lit, billowing fabric sat merrily in the impressive stonework fireplace, and the mantelpiece above it glimmered with various large crystals in interesting formations. The furniture was draped in rich velvet in various deep forest tones, sitting atop a plush ornamental rug with an intricate woven pattern. Looking closely, it seemed like there was even real gold thread worked into the material of the rug.

“This furniture is actually the wrong era,” Wychwood remarked as the two of them came to a stop.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… that style of architecture for the fireplace didn’t come into fashion until a few decades after this furniture would have been in vogue. The stonework compliments that heavy, dark wood and the tones of the upholstery, but at the time that these pieces would have actually been used in someone’s house, you’d probably have a much more compact brickwork fireplace. The decoration’s not too off other than that… of course, the little pieces on the mantel look much more impressive like this.” Wychwood pointed out each of the articles they cited in turn as they spoke.

“I’d be afraid to sit on that sofa,” Morgaine remarked. “It looks like the kind of furniture that you buy with the intent of never actually using it.”

Wychwood snorted. “That style was usually very stiff so that the upholstery would remain unwrinkled, so you’d honestly be better off sitting on the rug.”

“It is a comfortable-looking rug,” he agreed playfully. “I bet it’d be downright cozy in front of the fire.” He released their hand and slid his arm around their waist instead, pulling them more snugly against his side.

Wych gave him a wry look but did relax into the touch. “It probably would. That kind of rug is made with a cotton and angora fur blend, so they’re supposed to be really soft. It’s a technique that’s not used so much anymore because people get weirded out by having stuff made from someone else’s hair, though.”

Morgaine considered that with a hum. “You know, sugar, I think I have to agree with those people. I don’t think I want a mat of someone else’s fur on my floor.”

“It would be a hell of a way to find out that you’re allergic to other buns though,” Wychwood mused.

Morgaine made a face at them. “Now who’s being gross?”

They grinned and took him by the hand again to pull him to the next exhibit.