Only the winner may take me home, the loser might say I'm half empty. What am I?

You may draw me, open me, hide in my folds. I am who you think to call at the end of a show. I offer you darkness, I shield you from prying eyes, I move aside for the sun to glow.

The ancients used it to battle at a distance. It is how the sophisticated catch the olive in their martini. Append mint, and you may taste it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

A treasured gift for someone you adore, with metals and gems that shimmer galore. I can be linked or twisted, simple or grand, entire stores exist with me in demand. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings are all forms of me, precious, personal things. Children create me from beads and from string, and tiny boxes are built just to house such a thing.

I drift where clouds and birds might play, a skyborne craft that floats all day. Not a plane, nor quite a blimp, my shadow moves without a limp.