Re: antique store: louis/claire
He felt the strangest, most powerful urge to reject her offer of cash when it was offered, and he didn't even know why. It wasn't the amount. There were things in the shop worth what she put down on the counter, and worth more. The spear had to be worth more than what she was paying for it, and that same feeling, that he couldn't take the money, was rooted in a separate idea - that the spear was valueless, beyond value. That no one could pay for it, because it belonged to no one but this girl.
At least she didn't seem troubled about the cash. He made a vague sound of disapproval at the 'donation,' but didn't completely reject it. He didn't care about the cash, and his mind tried to equate the powerful, nameless feeling to a logical cause. Was he ambivalent because now he was afraid it had been stolen from her? Was that it?
Also, was she speaking latin? He felt a strange prickling down his spine.
"Is it - was it your family's?" he asked. He was trying to understand, but comprehension wasn't keeping up with the pounding fact of the live thing in the girl's hand. And it was alive, warm and more real almost than either of them, more real and complete than anything else around them. In its presence, all the objects in the room seemed dull, and he felt very strange, looking at it. She pressed it to her forehead, and he had a flash of recognition.
"That," he said. "I saw that, once before."
Sure. He was sure of it, and that firm belief was flooding him out, washing away his muzzy attempts to put two and two together when the twos were truths beyond understanding.