Antique Store: Louis/Sparrow
She arrived at mid-morning, because it took her that long to get from the Carnival to the main part of town. She didn't hurry, because she felt safe that the items she'd requested were set aside. Really, the bottle didn't matter very much, because it wasn't for her. It was a gift, but not one that held any meaning deep in the recesses of mind or soul. Non, but it was the prayer book she cared about it. She knew where it needed to be, where it needed to go, who needed to clutch it tight between pessimist's fingers.
She was only helping it get to where it needed to be.
She was a bridge, the ringleted blonde that walked into the store, a creature from an age bygone. Her dress was long and blue, white flowers and frills at the shoulder. Her hat was white, and the coat she wore was long and woolen navy. Stockings and shoes with dainty buttons, and she was comprised of eras. Honey and vanilla, and her cheeks pink from the chill, but the day was pretty, sunny, and the walk had been really, really nice.
She entered quiet, money in the pocket of her coat and dainty footsteps as she looked around at the items near to the front of the shop. She felt, sensed, and this place was strange. Like her, it was oddity, and not quite right, and not quite made of this world, a foot elsewhere, and she didn't understand anything more than that.
She touched nothing. She merely looked, the past dancing around the hem of her dress, and she moved soft and slow, not at all rushed as she worshiped with small steps and quiet.