Bridging Destinies

Chapter 1: A Brief Moment

I was positioned in a room within the Louvre upon a stone bench, gazing at the artwork, which filled entire walls of the room from floor to ceiling. The canvas before me depicted the tribulations of the French revolution, displayed in gruesome detail. In fact, the whole room was filled with paintings of those perilous events.

While the paintings did not express the reality of the experience, it did show the anguish of it. It was surreal, at best. A fantastic depiction of the emotional toil the experience manifested, written in oils and brush strokes, rather than the literal travail that it was. It was an exploration of the darkness of humanity, in all its Infernal glory, as if the nine levels of hell had ascended to earth, as depicted on the canvas, an indirect testament to Dante's Divine Comedy.

I had been there. I remembered what it was like. I knew its devastation and the cries for blood, its horror and its selfish fear that spoke more to the shadows of greed and hopelessness that lives within humanity, rather than its dual opposite, love, which exists equally but is often hidden. I took a deep, steadying breath as images arose in my mind and then faded, and as they did, I adjusted my braid back over my shoulder from where it had fallen, as if to reset my mind.

A man walked in front of where I sat, strolling with his companions, a few paces behind him. I had known that they were coming before I saw them. I could feel them. Their energies, the Light and auras that were distinct, had announced their presence before they had ever entered the room, and I had already determined that they were not a threat. I didn't worry beyond my natural sense of caution, sustaining my general guardedness as they walked in front of me.

A fine and subtle tingle had crawled up my spine when they entered, which had piqued my curiosity, and I surveyed the man, who was palpable to me, above that of his two companions, as they stopped and stood in front of the nearest painting. I could tell, from the energies swirling around them, that the tallest of the three was the focal point for the other two. They were responsible for him, but there was a fine line between responsibility and subservience, much like a close master to servant ratio, but where servitude took on an almost parental role. The man, central to the other two, wore a black mask over his face with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. His body was wrapped in dark clothing, comfortable, but expensive.

The group quietly spoke in Korean, which was not foreign to my ears, despite my plausibly European features. I recognized the language and even understood it. Because of my position, I spoke many languages fluently, invariably some that were now dead. I had lived in and visited numerous countries during my lifetime because of this position and it was considered an essential requisite. Humans, after all, could be very dangerous and understanding their languages allowed us to navigate within their cultures more easily.

The man's eyes were attractive, I decided, as I watched him turn his head towards his companion to the right of him. They were dark in the way of many humans, any Light, therein, subdued by his humanity, but shining through in warmth. And his hair, despite the obvious Asian tilt to his eyes, was dyed a sandy blond color, rather than the black that was most likely his natural color. From this angle, as he moved, I could see that his eyes were filled with an intelligence and respectfulness that I found appealing. I found myself wanting to see the rest of his face, as I watched him interact with his group. I was not immune to human beauty and often admired it. When younger, I had even explored relationships with humans. But, they always died within the typical lifespan of their species, if not sooner, in violence or an irrevocable failure of their bodies through injury or illness. The lives of humans were so very brief. I quietly took another deep breath to steady and refocus my thoughts, ignoring the rumination that my mind seemed to briefly settle into.

Fully returning my focus to the trio in front of me, I decided that the man did not look to be above thirty years in age, yet belying his age, his phrasing and the flavor of his conversation proclaimed the intelligence I had seen in his eyes moments before. As I listened to their conversation, catching the nuance of their words and vaguely diverted by the intellectual flavor of it, I decided he was still young, yet possessed a wisdom that was only truly seen in those that sustained an old soul. The man had likely lived many lifetimes in this world and possibly several others. Even as they walked away and paused before the next ceiling to floor length framed canvas, I could still hear their conversation, as they spoke in quiet voices.

I watched as the man looked around the room but looked away before he caught my apparent interest. I could feel his intention to look in my direction and did not want him to notice my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him take off his mask, rub his hand down his face and scratch his chin lightly. He adjusted his hat and kept the mask off, dangling it in his fingers. He said something to his friend, and I looked back at him, catching dimples at the edge of his smile. He was beautiful when he smiled, as his dark eyes lit up, and his dimples were sweetly expressed in his face. I took another deep breath, for very different reasons than earlier, and stood up, walking past their group.

'Ah, humans.' I thought to myself as I walked past and caught his eye. We were almost at eye level, though he was maybe infinitesimally shorter. My gaze was drawn to him like the pull of a magnet, but I ignored the sensation that echoed the earlier tingling I had felt along my spine. As I passed, I preserved our eye contact, as if it were a natural gesture to acknowledge the presence of another with a blatant stare. I graciously smiled, my lips barely lifting at the corners and marginally nodded in conjunction to my smile, raising my brow as I passed, then continued to walk out of the room.

I laughed softly to myself and shook my head. I recognized the orange glow of desire mixing with the green of his heart expanding, that had surrounded him, which almost surprised me. I was used to the orange glow of desire from human males, and sometimes human females, but did not expect the expansion of green from his heart, as our eyes caught on each other. I chose to ignore it, once again, and other than watching his intention, to see what he did, I was not too concerned. Their group was small, and I would be well enough, I decided, as I should be able to handle a small group of three, unless, of course, they had guns.

As I left the room, I let out a soft laugh and disappeared down the hallway. I did not feel the telltale sense of being followed and felt a small sense of relief. It was good. I didn't need some hapless humans following me. My brief foray into the Louvre was simply a small break to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

I was always on guard in the human world. That was always a given. As complicated as my job was, how taciturn, violent and difficult humans could be, there was also great beauty and expression within their species, and while I must remain cautious, I was also able to enjoy the lighter aspects of their kind. My past experiences had built a kind of ever living trauma inside me that was always a slow burn and only in the arms of the Mother and the embrace of my people was I able to ever fully relax.

I visited home rarely, and the remaining time I was out in the world of humans I gathered intel. Always intel. This was my job, my career, my position and most of my life. I was often forced to live in cities, during my sojourns away from my home, and while I preferred the countryside and wild places of nature, there were moments when certain places were more empty than others. This day, I was able to experience some level of peace within the virtual emptiness of the buildings.

The encounter with the man and his companions began to settle, as I walked through the halls of the Louvre towards the exit. I knew it was an experience that I would need to take out and examine later. I had not fully ignored the faint and peculiar feelings that had been created in the brief moment between us, regardless of attempting to do so. It had been a sense of being drawn inexplicably towards another being, and while faint, it had even lingered, digging in, as if it belonged within me. 

I felt a spike of energy, interrupting my thoughts, as an attempt to communicate was made and recognizing the small telltale signal of someone I knew. I opened my mind to listen, 'Are you coming back, then?' I heard inside my head.

I nodded and responded, 'Yes. On my way now.' Some of the conversation was with words in my native tongue and some with images. I felt an acknowledgement from my internal interlocutor and continued on, exiting from the museum into the courtyard and into the streets of Paris.