Bridging Destinies

Chapter 3: Preparations

It was a wonderful day, with the sun shining warmly upon my skin. The air was clean and pure, which was sometimes a rarity, with whole days in a row of dust and pollution making this country a difficult place to be. I never fully recovered while sojourning here. I often felt ambiguously ill when working outdoors. Other countries were a challenge to my health, as well, in variation, and I was never completely fond of the missions that took me away from the countryside, where the air was often more clear. I knew that, outside of the pollution generated within the country, it was often exacerbated by the pollution and dust which came in from China. But today was a good day. The air was blowing in from the east, instead of the north and west, carrying with it the slight scents of the countryside, which the human senses could not detect, but were detectable to my kind. I took a deep breath of the bouquet, as I closed my eyes and lifted my face towards the warmth of the sun, fully enjoying the moment.

We had been in South Korea for a little over a week, and were waiting to hear from our contact in Seoul, as we laid low in a house situated more in the country than the city. I had time to relax and enjoy the day, thinking of very little, but the breeze and warmth of the sun on my skin.

Thoughts of the Korean man in the Louvre had been pushed to the side after leaving France, and I had not much considered it since that day, which had been a distance of several months between that time and this moment. I had not been able to determine what about the encounter had caused the inexplicable attraction, and I didn't know who he was or where he was from. The paths had shown me nothing, and I had kept the encounter to myself. The idea that I could potentially meet this man again lingered in the back of my mind, but the mission was far more important, and I did not wish to entertain any thoughts beyond obtaining the information we came to this country to get.

The house we inhabited was of another contact who was a friend to our kind. One that knew of us, but kept quiet about his knowledge. And yet what he did know, was very little. Though he had known us since he was a young man, and had proved trustworthy in time, we kept our secrets close to our hearts and did not share most of everything. What was shared, was only what was necessary. I knew the man, who allowed us to use his empty houses, suspected who and what we were, but glamor was enough to keep him from fully grasping all of it.

Dana sat down in the chair next to mine and turned his face to the sun with a faint smile, unconsciously mimicking my earlier gesture, "It's a nice day today." He said in English.

I looked over at him with an equally faint smile and nodded, "Yes. One can breathe." I uttered.

He laughed softly, the sound deeply melodic, "Yes. Breathing is good, no?" He suggested wryly, and I laughed.

"When were we expecting to hear from her?" I asked into the silence that followed. I did not need to express who the woman was that we were to hear from. Dana already knew my thoughts, as we were in deep communion, having access to each other's thoughts when open to each other. As we had known each other a long time, our friendship and working relationship had deepened over the centuries, and our minds were always naturally a little accessible with each other, which made us a good team, and allowed us to express what was necessary without sharing too much, verbally.

"Soon." He said, "I anticipate very soon." His voice was just barely expressed on his breath, not loud enough to be a whisper, but I heard it, "I expect it will be today, actually."

The telltale sense of energy showing him the paths spoke to him often and made him a valuable asset to our team. I often worked alone, but sometimes I met up with others to work, and his sense of the paths was stronger than many, which made him good at what he did. I saw them too, but not like he did. I watched him as he kept his face towards the warmth of the sun, recognizing the signs, as he seemed lost in the weave of the paths, "What do you see?" I asked very quietly.