|Temperance lives by (verbumdomini) wrote in repose,|
@ 2016-02-01 22:34:00
|Entry tags:||*log, claire johnson, dorian lockwood|
Log: Dorian/Claire at Alexandria
Who: Dorian & Claire
What: Claire's poking around for information.
Where: Alexandria Bookstore
When: Fuzzy now-ish? After Rome.
Claire hadn't wanted to leave Italy. The Church hadn't wanted Temperance to leave Italy. Yet here she was, back in Repose. No announcements. Just as she had wandered out, she wandered back in. She would have to go back. There was no question about that, but for now she wanted to be in this tiny town. If she were going to lead an army into the battlefields at Tel Megiddo, she was going to enjoy what time she had left before the slaughter.
At the present moment in time, she was poking around in the supernatural section of the bookstore. Claire's upbringing gave her a very distinct advantage in spotting the real books from the ones that were only written to fleece the allowances from high school wiccans. The selection was actually rather impressive. Perhaps a little too much. Gloved fingers poked around the books, pulling them out to flip through the pages idly before another book would catch her eye. What was the book that dealt with herbology? Suddenly she was searching with purpose, and triumphantly yanked an unfamiliar copy of said book from the bottom shelf.
Claire frowned at the translation. She was looking for De Signatura Rerum by Jacob Böhme. Preferably in the original German. He was a little too Lutheran for Claire's tastes, but in spite of the blasphemy and heretical nature of his writings, he made good points about different herbs as related to the benefit of the soul. This The Signature of All Things had been translated into English from Latin (which had been translated from German), and English was such a clumsy language.
The artist must well observe this; in the blood of the young man, when his pearl gives itself to the three murtherers, that it also sheds its blood in and with the young man's, then the champion stands in hell, and disclaims the human self-hood: Then the white lion appears upon his crimson-coloured beast; even there lies the cure of sickness, and the death of death.
Claire's honey brown hair curtained her face while she buried herself into the book. She leaned lightly against the shelf as she read, looking uncomfortably warm in her heavy army styled thrift store coat and knit gloves.