(http://sean.ae.s3.amazonaws.com/buddha-park.jpg)<br/><br/>The two men made a peculiar sight, and the Royal Army guards who stood sentry at the gate of the park and patrolled its lushly grassy walks took notice and watched them warily.<br/><br/>On any given day the somewhat elderly Hmong in his traditional blacks and pink embroidered sash would have received only cursory scrutiny, but anyone talking to foreigners in such a place was bound to garner attention.<br/><br/>The tall, soft-spoken man with the French accent who accompanied him would have been noteworthy anywhere in Laos for his height and the fluidity with which he spoke the language of the northern hill tribes. He wore a European business suit despite the hothouse Sunday morning air, its pale green fabric seeming at times to blend with the misted grass. The two took an unhurried, meandering route through the pathways, alternating periods of quite conversation with long, comfortable silences.<br/><br/>Etienne paused before a reclining statue of the Buddha which was larger than many small houses. He did not look directly down at the Hmong beside him, but his attention was clearly on the older man rather than the damp concrete of the statue. "And these were seen by who?" He pauses, not meaning to sound skeptical or disrespectful. "Our people?"<br/><br/>Moua Tou smiles faintly at the question. "'Our people?'" He sighs quietly. "You have been gone many years, my friend. My people, yes, if that is what you ask. People I trust. People you trusted."<br/><br/>The Canadian clasps his hands behind his back, shoulders dropping slightly as he frowns. "I'm sorry. I did not choose to leave."<br/><br/>"You did. The bullet only chose<em>when</em>you would leave. We knew you would not stay. We knew long before the Americans came." The Hmong begins walking again, unhurried, Etienne following him at a slight limp. For a time there is silence.<br/><br/>The two men come around a statue of a demon, nearly running into a pair of orange-clad monks. All four bow, then the pairs go their separate ways again. Etienne clears his throat. "I did not come to farm, or to fish, that is true. I came because of the war."<br/><br/>"You did. And we opened our homes to you, knowing that when the war ended you would go, and the Americans would go. But the Americans left, too, and the war is still here. The<em>Viet Minh</em>have come now, and they intend to stay."<br/><br/>"I am sorry." It is Etienne's turn to come to a halt, "I could not come back until now." After a moment Moua Tou stops as well and turns towards him.<br/><br/>"I believe that you would have. But there is no 'back' now. The People have had to move far up into the hills. The place where you stayed with us belongs to the<em>Viet Minh</em>now."<br/><br/>Etienne looks away unhappily. "They will not keep it forever. And that is near the place where these others have been seen?"<br/><br/>Moua Tou nods very slightly. "This lifetime is the first. Not in the old village, but near there, and elsewhere. The road that goes through the hills. They are not<em>Viet Minh</em>, nor Chinese, nor Russ. And we have heard from other villages, other peoples. Of similar visitors."<br/><br/>Etienne frowns as the two of them come back around to the massive, demon-headed gate and the rifle-toting guards stationed at it. "I wish I could say who they were. I need to find out. It may be that I will need to see some of these places, Tou. On maps, and in person."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Healergirl</div><div class="spoiler_body">I wasn't 100% sure where to go, whether you meant the conversation had just ended or was ongoing or...So I hope you will excuse me for picking a specific location  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddha_Park)and creating an NPC out of whole cloth. If it doesn't work, let me know and I'll change/adapt as needed!</div></div>