What a pleasant flight. On the whole, Edgar wasn't exactly the most fond of airplanes. As somebody who spend almost their entire life on the ground or in the water, hurtling through the air in metal box controlled by somebody else wasn't the most appealing prospect. And unlike those Olympians who sat overlooking the earth, being high in the sky wasn't really his divine M.O. In short, he was scared of flying. Good thing he decided to live in a country positively surrounded by the ocean, then. Plus, it was a new experience for him still. He had taken a boat out to England when he was setting up his life, so flying was an exciting prospect still, if an uncomfortable one.

Thankfully, he had been seated between two young gentlemen who had bought tickets together. Rather than moving to the window seat and allowing them to sit together, he had decided to simply invite himself into their group. Whatever they wanted to talk about, he would also be interested. It was somewhat difficult to follow their conversations, but they seemed intensely passionate about what they called "Best Girl," and their grammar was terrible. Naturally, it was a good opportunity for Edgar to talk to them about his wife, who was clearly "Best Girl." For about half an hour, he had listened patiently to their stories about girls who they seemed to have dated and had fantastic experiences with, although it seemed like sometimes they had both dated the same girl, and went to the same festivals with them, and even went through the same tragedies with these poor women multiple times? Today's youth seemed to have a wealth of life experiences. Not to mention these two were obviously from Wales, and yet they were talking at length about Japanese culture with quite some passion. Edgar was impressed, they must have spent some of their lives abroad together. Perhaps they had transfered schools? Though the strangest thing was that when he had attempted to strike up a conversation in Japanese with them, they seemed dumbstruck. How had they attended a Japanese high school without speaking any of the language...? Truly mysterious.

For the next hour and a half, he had regaled them with stories of events he had gone through with his wife, Marianne, and tossed in useful nuggets of dating advice and lessons about human nature and relationships. The young men seemed politely interested but that was about it. Normally Edgar would have picked up on their social cues, but it had taken his mind off of their altitude, so he just kept chatting away. All in all, the flight had been pleasant, and when they were disembarking, he thanked them properly and went about his business. The boys were silent as he left them, meaning either they were taking his lessons to heart, or else perhaps they had shut their brains off entirely. Either way, he was just happy to be back on solid ground. The rain on the island had turned into a comparatively brutal heat in Athens, but if he removed his coat, he would need to carry it, which would be its own burden. So instead he simply left it on.

Shielding his eyes overtop of his thick glasses, he stared through the bright light, taking in the scenery. It had been some few years since he'd last set foot in Greece, and while much of the architecture was decades or hundreds of years old, it always amazed him how much a place could change over a comparatively short amount of time. Even so, without much difficulty, he located a business class hotel by the airport, dropping his luggage and credit card information there before setting off. It was imperative for him to have a base of operations, but if this turned out to be a research trip, he wouldn't be spending much time there. He moreso got the feeling that his hotel room might turn into a glorified storage unit. That was fine as well, if it came to that.

He had no idea what to expect upon his arrival at the Parthenon - the origin of this feeling he had - but that was fine too. He was plunging himself blindly into a situation that might not even involve him at all, so why should he be worried that he couldn't anticipate what would happen next? That was what adventure was all about, or so it went. If he was being honest, even though he was here at the Acropolis, the pull hadn't gotten much stronger. He couldn't exactly pinpoint where it was he was supposed to be other than a vague 'here.' There were plenty of tourists, religious pilgrims, and even cleaning staff meandering around. somebody had his answers, but nobody really called to him specifically (though a couple people stood out.) It was a bit anticlimactic, but he decided it was best to simply wait and see. Perhaps a group would form that might stick out, or some voice might call out to him. And if nothing happened today, that would be fine as well. He would return tomorrow, and the day after, until he reached his answers. He had time.

Truly, he had all the time in the world.