Re: [log: antique store - daniel/claire/louis]
The tale he told was horrifying, but surprisingly common when one looks through the course of history. Of course, her history included studying a bloodline of demon hunters, so incidents like this seemed far more numerous than they really were. Perspective. "Not ridiculous at all." Her eyes followed where his finger pointed at his shirt, then dipped back up to notice how much more tired he seemed than when they started. "No one deserves to go through that sort of horror," she tilted her head sadly, honest in her bearing. "This may seem odd, but... Which Saint?" It may not have been important in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like there was something there. If there was, Carver may be invaluable in ridding Louis of this creature forever. Telling Carver about this was another matter altogether. She'd deal with that later. One problem at a time. She was still trying to piece this particular puzzle together.
The mention of morning in Italy brought a twitch of smile to her lips, and there was a flash of reminiscence behind her eyes. It was unfair to the rest of the world how breathtaking sunrises over Rome were. The information that followed was not so pleasing, concern graven in brow, "So it needs you. It can't just move on to another." Claire took a thoughtful pause to put the espresso down on the table as she internally tried to flip through the works of de Plancy to narrow down what they were dealing with. "The opposite is not true. You do not need it, and that is why you have the advantage." She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and folded her hands in her lap, "The Sumerian bothers me. It sounds like it is probing for weaknesses."
Hallelujah and praise the Lord that nothing happened when the paper was handed over. Not that Louis looked great. He'd paled slightly as if ill, and she wondered if it had been a mistake to hand it over even if there was no flash of fire and brimstone. Claire nodded at the very accurate description, but the comment on the practicality of the symbol made her snicker in spite of the gravity that had settled over them. "No, not practical. Not from a weaponry standpoint. As a means of ecclesiastical intimidation, I believe it fills its purpose."
Her hands gripped the notes in her lap. "Yes," she confirmed his conclusions about the sigil. "The symbol was on the walls at at the desecrated holy sites. It was on the body that had been sacrificed. It was drawn on the foreheads of the initiates in blood." Another reason she was asking about the cult. The cultists in the Capital were confused and misled, but that did not mean they deserved to die. They did not know what powers they were tangling with, idolaters, and were unwittingly signing their own execution order. "Most of that would not have made it to the news. They tried to paint it as teenagers dabbling in Satanism and so of little consequence." It was never Satanists. Ever. In all of her 22 years of life. Demons, yes. The actual Morning Star? He hadn't been cool for the kids to worship since before Claire was born.
Claire suffered through uncomfortable heat more often than she'd like to ever admit to, what with keeping herself covered up so she didn't accidentally touch someone. Perhaps the warmth was her imagination, a mix of the coffee and lack of exposed flesh. "The people do not put up a struggle," she continued, "The ones that have been hurt. There are no defensive wounds. They all speak of the sun and the enlightenment it brings. Their minds have been broken." She tried to ignore the perspiration that was starting to form on her upper lip.