The Lost Continent

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Name: Enna Kate Sparks
Age: 28
Brief Bio: Enna has had enough of people's bull-crap and is ready to lay out the smackings with her stethoscope. She is the type of woman who knows exactly where she stands and isn't going to take any nonsense from anyone. While some charitably describe her as 'bossy' or 'bitchy', Enna is really quite friendly, so long as you don't get on to her bad side with any shenanigans. She's incredibly intellectual and has a keen mind for anything science or medicine, though has few other real life skills. Things like cooking, laundry, and grocery shopping are a bit lost on her, but she attempts at being a functioning adult. Determined and caring, she does carry a sense of responsibility for anyone she sees as a friend, and does tend to go for broke rather than planning ahead. Ever since discovering she has a genetic disorder that will prematurely end her life as she knows it, Enna stopped believing in planning for the future, and lives her life completely on short-sighted whims now.

Crippled by the fear of her own mortality, she tries to keep her schedule so busy she doesn't have time to dwell on the fact that every day draws her closer to a terrible fate, though she will sometimes fall into a bleak state of depression when the realization becomes too much for her to ignore. Most of the time though, she's a fiery individual who is very outgoing and loud. She adores being around people and desperately craves belonging to a group. Independent, she loves the fact that she can take care of herself and prides herself in knowing she doesn't need a significant other to survive, though this lends itself to her being excessively stubborn when it comes to admitting she needs help, even in the most dire of circumstances. She trusts a bit too easily, but in a tough situation, she's usually smart enough to think her way out of it.

She has a love for anything that shines: diamonds, glitter, etc. and she sometimes snorts when she laughs (and she hates it).


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Name: Orion Dean Petrove
Age: 30
Brief Bio: He's the type of person who is pretty easy to get along with because he very rarely has a negative thing to say about anything or anyone, even if he can be a bit dramatic. When faced with a serious decision, he calms himself down to be rash and thoughtful. While he loves to joke, he takes pride in his work, and puts very serious effort forth towards every job he is given. Orion is usually a follower and isn't readily willing to speak his mind unless pressed as he can be vulnerable to self-deprecation. While he trusts his capabilities in demolitions, he doesn't see himself as having much else to offer the group as a whole, as he doubts his intelligence and survival skills. Naturally, these self-esteem issues can lead to self-doubt and poor decision making in the heat of the moment. More than anything, he wishes to be more assertive and greatly admires anyone he deems as being a good leader, often aspiring and emulating them in anyway he can. He has a tendency to invest deeply in whims, only to fall into a bleak state when they fall through.

While no genius, Orion is smart enough, though his true talents lie in explosives and chemistry. A savant when it comes to understanding chemical reactions, he's always had a knack and a talent for blowing things up, though his chosen career path isn't very lucrative since his discharge from the FBI. Luckily, Orion has an optimistic outlook on life and doesn't see himself as being above contracts for construction companies, as money is money, no matter how it's earned. He's pretty quirky with his work and most of his demolitions are done with a little creative flair. He takes great pleasure in making his explosions look like different things when they go off, though hearts and smiley faces are his favourites. He's definitely has a creative spark, no one can deny that. Someday, he'd like to retire to Brazil and own a banana farm and a herd of mules.
​
 
GIDEON KERNS
AGE || Thirty-Two
HEIGHT || 6'5"
WEIGHT || 215lbs.

HISTORY || At a young age, Gideon Kerns was destined for great things. He was told as much by his grandfather - a minister in a Presbyterian church a few miles from their home in Tennessee. He had always shown a knack for tinkering with mechanics, but more prominent was his inherent need to protect. By eighteen, he had enlisted in the Army - a few years later, following his training, he was shipped out to Afghanistan.

It was somewhere in his third tour that Gideon suffered a break down and while no one quite understood what happened, when he was injured by insurgents Gharbi, he was given an honorable discharge and disappeared for a time into a life of seclusion.

The man who came out of that self imposed exile was not the man Gideon's grandfather had imagined. A functioning alcoholic, Gideon avoided his issues with liquor and humor, delving into a life nearly absorbed by work, weighed down by a conscience blackened by the things he'd seen and done...

When he received the invitation, he nearly threw it away, but something... something in the back of his mind sparked. It wasn't ideal, but maybe it was a chance to redeem himself... maybe it was a chance to prove his grandfather wasn't completely wrong about him.

Corrina Jacobs
AGE || Twenty-Six
HEIGHT || 5'4"
WEIGHT || 115lbs.

HISTORY || Corrina is small, but makes up for it in both attitude and spirit - something she learned at a young age, in order to survive a rough life on the rough streets of Columbia. Raised by her grandmother, Corrina spent a good deal of time coming to grips with more difficulties than a child ought to. Believing in rising above those circumstances, her grandmother taught her to embrace her talents and her natural intelligence.

Her strength was in language, and within a few short years, Corrina had mastered several - eventually delving into even those that were lesser known or considered dead. Her aptitude drew attention from a number of academic institutions, and it was through these connections she was eventually able to free her small family from the bondage of a life of poverty.

But not everything went according to plan, and the death of her grandmother left Corrina devastated. Several months passed before she was able to adjust to life on her own, but it was a letter about an expedition to an ancient civilization that drew her from her mourning and back into the world.
 
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Orion Petrove​
"I think the lady in the room next door is legit crazy," Orion said into his mobile phone, raising his eyebrows when another muffled curse word rung out from the opposite side of the paper-thin wall with a hideous print of wallpaper. Pinching the phone between his ear and shoulder, the tall, sandy blonde gentleman sauntered towards the window and peered out over the city before yanking the curtains closed. "No, no, she's screaming about something. Or maybe not screaming, it's hard to tell, the walls are so thin here. She could be talkin' normal." He laughed into the receiver at whatever the response was.

"Yea, the hotel is nice, uh-huh," he said, turning back to survey the room. It was one of the most luxurious he'd ever seen. It was a large, sweeping room with a view, with a king-sized bed with pure white, Egyptian cotton sheet. A desk, a thirty-six-inch TV with video and DVD, a spreading leather sofa, and on the side of the floor-to-ceiling windows was his own private terrace. "Yea, uh-huh. Yea. I'll be fine, mum. Mum, I'm in a place they have chocolates on the pillows," he continued, flopping down onto the bed, and plucking the chocolate in a bright red wrapper up and twirling it between his fingers.

"I'm not sending you a photo of the loo… mum, mum… put dad on, would you?" he chuckled softly, tossing the chocolate to the end of the bed and stretching out. "I can't talk forever. I have to go down to the ba… to the lounge to meet with a few folk. No, I won't have a drink… you know me." He snorted into the phone, lolling his head to the side. Through the curtains, streamers of light filtered in, causing him to squint.

"Alright, for real, I gotta go. Yep. No, of course not. Okay, I'll call you later. Yup. Yup. Yes, love you too. Bye now," he said, clicking 'disconnect call' before his mother had the opportunity to rope him into another conversation, just in time to hear a muttered curse from the wall behind the head of his bed.

Of course, by the time he decompressed from the always stressful phone conversation with the family, showered, and changed, he was marginally late for the shindig in the downstairs bar—er, lounge. Unfortunately, as he was shaving, he had a bad habit of convincing himself one side was uneven. Thus began the process of shaving a bit off one side, than a bit off the other… back and forth until he ended up with a clean-shaven result.

Pulling himself up on to a bar—rather, lounge, stool, he ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks.

Enna Sparks​


The walls in the hotel were not paper-thin. Rather, Enna had a way of enunciating her voice after several years in the medical field working with hard-of-hearing elderly patients, whom required her to speak up. So, when she took a curler to the side of her jaw, the cussing that unfurled from between her lips was quite pronounced. Dressing up never was her favorite thing, but having scuttled through the hotel's lounge less than an hour ago in sweatpants and a t-shirt, taking in the sights of well-dressed gentleman and some of the most beautiful collection of women she had ever seen, she felt compelled to make at least the slightest bit of effort. This effort, naturally, resulted in a burn mark on her jawline and one red eye from inadvertently poking herself when trying to put in contacts to replace her glasses.

Surveying herself in the mirror, she was unimpressed with her hair that seemed keen at finding a way to fly away at any given opportunity. Some parts of the ensemble looked decent, she thought. As if it were a second skin, the red dress clung to her every corner and curve with a dropped back revealing a bit too much of her spine, with a single strand of fake diamonds, like a leash, falling from her neck and swaying down her back. She stood nicely in her heels, and licked her thumb to smooth a frizzy strand from her gush of blonde curls, before making her way down to the event.

She might have even caught some attention, had she not hunkered like a child. Dr. Enna Sparks never did blossom out of those awkward teenage years, even when her body had left the uncomfortable acne and disparate proportions behind.

Clutching her purse against her stomach, she stepped around the hotel's lounge as close to the wall as she could, looking up at the vaulted ceilings strung with chandeliers and sating ribbons. This wasn't the Pennsylvanian medical center anymore. But goodness, at least at the medical center she wouldn't have felt compelled to wear the sexy underwear, of which was currently creeping up into places that it shouldn't have… and she felt picking a wedgie would have been really inappropriate. Then, there was the matching bra.

"Did the devil design this bra?" she muttered to herself as she tripped up to the bar, pinching her arms in at her side and doing a small shake to try and get something, anything to readjust into a more comfortable position. It must have been trying to suffocate her… or cut her in two, whichever came first. Unable to locate the lady's room and in desparate need to correct the issue with her unfortunate choice of undergarments, she took her ordered drink and slid off to the far corner of the room. She set her drink down on a decorative side table and hooked her fingers through the open back of her dress and the rogue pinching bra wire.

Finally, relief.[/hr]
 
SIR ISAAC STUART
Tonight was the night. The pieces falling into place exactly as he'd always imagined it happening. For so many years now, he had worked to bring to fruition his life time goal and at long last the greatest achievement in the history of exploration was about to belong to him.

Everything was prepared; the hotel rented out, the ballroom dressed to the nines, caterers and entertainment... It was to be the gala of the century - the greatest that Karlovy Vary's Bristol Pavlov Hotel had ever witnessed. All that was left was for the guests to arrive and the grand event to begin. They were the best of the best, his guests. The greatest in their fields for one reason or another, and it was his hope that the team formed within the hotel that night would be the final key to unlocking the deep mysteries.

With a soft wrapping against the doorframe, Maliah poked her head into his room, "Master Stuart, I've just been told they're finished, if you'd like to come approve the final designs?"

"Indeed, Maliah. Thank you. I'll be right there."

On his desk, tucked between thick sheets of protective lament, the document stared up at him as if it possessed eyes that could see into his soul. These words, so important, seemed so simple... so inconsequential. How many before him had laid their gaze upon it, without realizing entirely what they had uncovered. Come so close, yet in the end failed to accomplish the incredible fete put before them. This wasn't just his quest... this was his destiny and soon, he would see it realized.

GIDEON KERNS
It wasn't his thing. It wasn't even close to his thing. It was so far from being his thing, that in a parallel universe, it would have been the thing that he did, just about every day. If he could have gotten out of it, he would have, and even still, he was determined to find a way to duck out before he had to spent too much time in the damnable monkey suit.

A Gala. It was like a nightmare. Only generally in his nightmares, he was at least armed. Here, his best choice of a weapon was the tie that was currently trying to strangle him to death, and while he could've made it work, he was pretty sure the who affair was going to be far too miserably boring to actually encourage any sort of nefarious activity.

He'd arrived earlier - a habit of his, and the first thing he'd found, walking into the Bristol Pavlov ballroom was that the bar was entirely too far from the door. The second thing he found was they made a mean Martini. The third thing he noticed was that the stunning red head currently bar tending had a thing for guys in suits, and this... he decided, wasn't the worst possible development he could've come across so early into the night.

He was on to his second Martini and had the girl's room number by the time guests started arriving. Shortly enough, the room began to fill with unfamiliar faces, all at various degrees of excitement, anticipation or curiosity. He was pretty sure he was the only one there who wasn't having some degree of existential experience, just being there. It was a pretty interesting to-do, sure... and he was intrigued enough, but to Gideon, it was just another job. It paid well enough, and there was a decent chance of getting out of it alive. He couldn't really care less if they were after Atlantis, the Holy frickin' Grail or a box of cheerios... so long as he had the money in hand by the end of it.

Looking back to the ginger, who was twisting a curl around her fingers, he winked, "...Let's have another, gorgeous. Make it dirty, this time..." His brow raised and as she moved to grab a glass she gave a twittering giggle that made Gideon want to chew on razor blades.

She set the new Martini down in front of him and turned to wash out his empty glass, her adenoidal tone grating and dry, "...So, I guess I'll see you later...?"

But before she'd turned back again, Gideon had already pushed away from the bar and was meshing through the crowd, in what he hoped was a convincing enough attempt at 'mingling', her room number already long forgotten.

It was a funny thing, being stuck in a crowd of strangers. There were a few different ways to handle oneself. There were the wallflowers those few who clung to dark corners and empty tables, who nursed girly cocktails and pretended like they had something extremely interesting to look at on their phones. Then there were the bulls, who plowed through the crowd with the intention of greeting every attractive specimen they could find, until their pocket was full of numbers, their confidence palpable. There were the school-fish, who swam to the people they knew, their comfort zones well in tact by the end of the evening. And then there were people like the girl in the red dress... who really, frankly, just surprised.

From toe to crown she was a knock out... a figure girl's starved for, legs that made a man's heart race. It was the type of dress, Gideon figured, that would look much more appealing on the floor of a hotel room, and that was just the lower half of her. Her face, even half shadowed in the corner of the room wasn't remotely hard to look at...

Why then, she had sequestered herself into those shadows, he couldn't imagine. At first he was afraid she might be one of those infuriatingly ingratiating sorts, who pretended not to own a mirror but still called themselves ugly, buckling under social pressures until someone swept in to rescue them from their self deprecation, but then he spotted that telltale wiggling and his lips curved in a smirk as he watched... cheering her on in his head, until finally... yes! She did it... she actually did it.

Laughing softly, he stepped over, nonchalantly as possible, "...Word of unsolicited advice from someone totally unaccustomed to the torment of support-undergarments. You're wearin' the straps too high. I can help, if you're willing to trust a complete stranger to mind his manners."

CORRINA JACOBS
Detached. That was the word for it. Corrina felt utterly detached. By the time she arrived, the room was swimming, already. A sea of unfamiliar faces, mingling together in a cacophony of utterly pointless noise. Crowds were like a language all on their own, but the issues was, Corrina had absolutely no desire to learn it.

It wasn't that she wasn't a people person - She enjoyed them, on a normal basis, but today wasn't the day for it, and in every way, she was repelled by the idea of socializing. She'd found a dress on sale in a boutique in DC before leaving the city, a black number with a low cut neckline and lace cap sleeves. It clung to her generous curves, but still, she hoped, gave off the quiet indication that she was there for business, only...

Except that by the time she'd made it halfway through the crowd, and brushed off four odd attempts at soliciting conversation, and one very obvious attempt at soliciting more, she was in less of a mood for business, and more in the mood to crack someone's skull with one of her patent leather heels.

Slumping down at the bar, she dropped her clutch onto the counter, pinched the bridge of her nose and waved over the bartender, "I'll take a sidecar, and for the love of God, hold the fruit."
 
Orion Petrove​
By nature, Orion was not generally curious into the matters of other folks. He tended to ignore them, when best, except it was hard to ignore the slamming of a purse and the storm cloud of a woman who sat down to his immediate left. Without moving his head or neck, his eyes lurched to the corners, peering over to what hazy image of her he could make out. It was only after a few moments, did Orion allow his head to angle towards her more entirely, so he could glance her over, brows raised.

From her expression alone, he deduced it was unwise to say anything smart-ass, but she also gave off the vibe that saying anything at all would have been unwise. Alas, Orion was drawn to explosive things, and the woman oozed like dynamite. He'd heard the term 'bombshell blondes,' before, but she was the brunette equivalent. Pretty as she was, he was more amused by the pinching of her nose and the exasperated commentary on fruit.

"Rough day?" he asked, shifting in his seat so he could prop back against the backrest, sending the ice-cubes clinking around at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "You a part of this whole Atlantis shindig thing?"

He knew he was rolling dice on small talk, but he hoped his casual tone and lax demeanor would be enough to allow for some conversation. He'd come alone, after all, and with everyone huddling into their own groups and pockets, Orion felt obliged to talk to someone… anyone… and fruity girl sitting next to him seemed like a solid bet. Maybe she had been the one in the hotel room next to his? Either way, he offered a small smile and ordered a second whiskey when the tail of the first slid down his throat.

Enna Sparks​


"Oh," Enna said, lurching a bit in surprise and whirling around on her heels to come face to face with a man who had the sort of visage that could have stopped a person in their tracks. And he did, except it wasn't because his perfectly chiseled jawline or slightly disheveled handsome charm. Nay, it was out of mortification that Enna physically paused for a few seconds as her brain raced to grapple with what was happening.

A man… her bra… dear lord… all she could do was sigh inwardly at her own social ineptitude. An 'A' in bedside manner, and for what? She could spoon jell-o into some old guy's mouth like a champ, but the whole concept of talking to people her own age, able to walk free of hospital beds was as foreign as the streets outside the hotel.

"Uhh… you must be one of those bra pixies they've been talking about in Cosmo, am I right?" she asked. "Do they even make that magazine anymore?" They had once, back when she was fifteen. She could still remember how handsome the N'Sync boys' looked on the poster hung above her head. "Come floating around with your magic Victoria's Secret wand, looking like you're Photoshopped? That's just not fair."

Her hands fell to her side and she smirked, glancing off to the side for just a moment as her brain continued to exclaim how stupid she was, repeatedly, in her head. A good looking gentleman approached her, and there her mouth went. Surely, a few more words from her mouth and the guy would be slinking off with a confused, dazed look on his face. They always did.

"Well, if you help me with this devil's contraption, I wouldn't even be offended if you copped a feel," Enna continued with a shrug, worming to one side as the cursed prodding wire returned with enough force to perforate her left lung.
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GIDEON KERNS
Up close, she was cuter than he expected. When he approached her, he half expected her to be one of those sloppy, shy sorts... that tucked into themselves at even the mention of the opposite sex. The sort who was more comfortable behind a computer screen, interacting with people over the internet. In part, it was why he'd made such a bolt approach - it was a pretty quick way to gauge just what sort of person he was interacting with, and she had... to his surprise, not disappointed.

She was quick and charming, and the compliment was appreciated, even if it was pretty obvious. He knew how attractive he was - and while he could be cocky from time to time, he exercised in the area of confidence much more comfortably. With a few drinks in him, he could maneuver through a crowd with all the grace of a proper gentleman, and still manage to hold his own in a conversation with a lovely lady.

"...Just had 'em tone down the wrinkles and smooth out my figure. They wanted to airbrush out this little scar here..." He said, pointing to his chin, "But I think it gives me character." With a smooth smirk, he stepped beside her and gingerly, cupped her shoulders, to turn her then carefully, respectfully as one could when one was working with bra straps, he adjusted the plastic slides so that the middle clasp was situated more towards the center of her back, the underwire riding lower against her rib cage.

Stepping back to approve of his handy work, he winked, "There you are, and no feels copped. You got a name, sweetheart, or should I just call you Victoria?"

CORRINA JACOBS
Her head cocked to the side, and for a moment, a solid moment, Corrina considered saying absolutely nothing at all. He'd guessed she was having a rough time, and that should've been enough. She shouldn't have needed more than a shrug, a nod and to suck down her drink in privacy. He was pretty, sure... Had a James Dean vibe, with hair that would've made her grandmother cry, and a cunning look in his eyes that suggested he knew a thing or two about the world, but she wasn't in the mood for flirting with strangers, and least of all ones that actually had a chance of garnering her interest.

Yet despite the warning signs, despite the fact that her drink arrived with a big old twist of lemon and orange in it, and despite the fact that she knew better, Corrina found her mouth opening, almost of it's own volition, "Rough does not begin to describe it, Bonito. Just a bad day, no big deal."

Plucking the fruit from her glass and flicking it behind the bar with a pointed look to the tender, she turned in her seat and took sip, "I suppose so, not that I've made any decisions. Was just better than sitting around in DC, waiting for something to come through with all the applications I put in." The words came easy. Too easy, and she found herself frowning after she'd said them. Small talk hadn't been part of the plan, but she couldn't bring herself to shut up.

"What about you?"
 
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Orion Petrove​
He watched the two pieces of sliced fruit go flinging across the bar and flopping down to the holed mats with his eyebrows creeping a bit further up his forehead, in equal parts amusement and hesitation. He'd never been particularly good at picking conversation partners, and the theme seemed to be continuing. He didn't expect her to reply at all after snubbing the bartender so when someone responded to his question, he almost expected it to be someone else. Except, glancing her way, it was her mouth that was moving.

"Those two sentences don't seem sequitur," he replied. Rough doesn't begin to describe it and no big deal didn't exactly go hand-in-hand, but Orion mentally shrugged it all off. It wasn't his place to pry and he still wasn't sure why he was trying to talk with her at all. There were plenty of others huddled around the bar then, flocking in from groups, or alone, eyes exchanging nervously across the haze, looking for someone else's gaze to lock on to. He could have gotten up and gone to mingle, but all the bar seats were now filled, and he didn't want to give up his seat.

"From DC, eh? Had a few jobs out that way a while back. Nice area." He set his drink down and scratched his chin, watching the two bartenders whirl around in a frenzy, trying to keep up with their orders. If anyone knew anything about a tough job market, it was a gentleman from a federal bomb squad, who could no longer work in the federal branch… not after his discharge, honorable or not.

"Same," he remarked. "My uhh… career field isn't really hiring at the moment. Plus," he said, jerking a thumb back to gesture towards the throngs of people behind him. "Big guy said I could blow some stuff up."


Enna Sparks​

"I think this bra was just upset it missed its chances at being medieval torture," she breathed. A small smirk curled the red tips of her lips as she turned beneath the man's guiding grip to her shoulders. Pulling her hair over her shoulder and holding it, she allowed him to do whatever it was he was going to do back there… a part of her suspected something sleazy, like the much older gentleman had tried when she was at the bar, but was surprised when his fingers respectively found the clasps, and nothing more.

It was nice, for once, to feel pretty, and she knew she was. She was comfortable enough in her own skin, alas, slinky red dresses and bouncing curls were too often replaced with sweat smeared scrubs and greasy locks of hair tossed up into a whatever bun, ponytail, or rat's nest she could wrangle it into. She did alright, a fling here, a few dates there, a one-night stand inbetween, but the chiseled God-like figure currently fumbling with her bra—in a public setting—was gorgeous down to every inch, was enough to make a single woman want to sacrifice a virgin to have just one night with. Trouble, her adoptive mother would have called him. Good for nothing but trouble. And fixing bra straps, she would have added.

For she was finally able to sigh out a breath of relief once he had finished. "Thanks, Adobe," she said. "Both for helping me and being such a gentleman about it." Her gaze flicking up to the scar he pointed out with a snort of amusement.

Plucking up her glass, she shipped the last from the rocks. "That's Doctor Victoria to you," she corrected with a small laugh, shifting her glass to her left hand so she could extend her right out towards him. "But since my secret is already out, I'm Enna. And, unless I managed to get really lucky, I doubt your name is Adobe. You are?"
[/hr][/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS
With a wry smirk, Corrina shrugged, "I'd blame it on a language barrier, but I speak seventeen, and some aren't even in existence anymore." Her eye shifted to the man and she set her drink down, a brow lifting, "But all I meant was, I'm not big on letting rough days get me down, you know? Easier just to move past it." Though the day was decidedly fighting back, this time, around...

"DC is a cesspool. Full of spooks, politicians and people who want to be politicians... But my job doesn't exactly afford me a lot of locations, and DC has the biggest need for language interpreters." Finger tracing the rim of the glass, she shrugged, "But we take what we can, and we move one day at a time, I suppose." Twisting, she extended her hand, "Corrina, by the way. I'm guessing you're either a demolition expert... or an arsonist. Hoping it's the former."

GIDEON KERNS
"Not that I have personal experience wearing one..." Gideon started with a small grin, "But I'm pretty sure they all still qualify as some sort of medieval torture devices. Not entirely sure it's unintentional, either."

As she shifted gears, his smile softened and he shrugged, "Listen... I'm not gonna claim I'm a saint, and you're sure wearin' the hell out of that dress, but trust is trust, even between strangers, and my Gran raised me well enough to know the difference between flirting and being an ass. Hopefully, not too far off?"

Chuckling, he stepped back so he could take her hand, giving it a shake, "Name's Gideon, but you can call me whatever suits you, Enna. How about I refill that drink for you, hm, and you can tell me what sort of doctor you are, cause I'm pretty sure I've been going to all the wrong ones."
 
Orion Petrove​
"Seventeen?" Orion said, whistling to express his impression of such a large number. That was a lot of languages, and he could barely speak one with any competency. He'd taken Spanish classes once in secondary school, but that was a long time ago, and beyond 'hola,' and 'tequila,' he wasn't sure how many words he could recall to memory. How one went about learning that many languages, he couldn't even begin to fathom. Everyone had their thing.

Resting the butt of his glass against his knee, he rocked it back and forth to rattle the ice-cubes. The chimes were barely heard over the white noise of the crowd swimming around the bar, a million conversations being told in a million voices. A cesspool, much like DC. "Could always go to the UN," he suggested with a lame shrug. He'd dealt with those bastards in more than on rodeo, but they were also looking for the language folk.

The hand jutted out towards him and he tilted his head in her direction, reaching out to grasp it and give it a singular shake. "Orion," he replied. "As for arsonist or demolions, it depends on the era of my life we're talking. In some countries, I'm even a terrorist." He brought his glass to his lips and sipped it down with an amused half-smirk tugging the corners of his lips, forming dimples into his tanned cheeks.


Enna Sparks​


"Yes, well, you know as they say… suffer for beauty," Enna replied with a small pinching of her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. The shift in their conversation was a welcoming one though for, as much as Enna enjoyed bra talk, that was conversation usually left for the other women at the hospital. They all groped equally about how painful bras became after an eleven, twelve, thirteen hour shift. Funny that she'd only been in the current choice for less than two hours; it just went on to show how wonderful the good ol' sports bra truly was.

A content smile settled over her features with the increased relief in her sides. No longer was there any underwire threatening to slice her straight in half and the booze was finally making its way into her brain cells, sending a tingling shot of joy down the length of her spine. "Your Gran sounds like a lovely, educated woman. It sounds like she did a plenty good job with you," she said, noting the compliment of her dress, but more specifically, her wearing the dress. Fighting a blush, Enna glanced towards the bar. When was the last time she'd been complimented? There was that creepy patient a few weeks back…

She decided that didn't count.

Realizing she was getting lost in her own thoughts, she snapped back into reality when the warmth of his hand closed around hers. "Gideon, it's a pleasure," she answered. "A drink would be lovely, thank you." She only hoped he wasn't going to show her any weird moles. The number of times a man showed her a weird mole or rash when they learned she was a doctor was too dang high. For once, she was on a sort of holiday—and was enjoying herself—a mystery rash would not end out the night in the way she hoped it would end.

[/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS

Chuckling, she shrugged, "I mean... it's technically ten, if you don't count sign language, four dead languages and Klingon. That last one was a dare from my roommate in college. It's surprisingly challenging, for something made up for a science fiction show." Signaling the tender for a refill, she sat back and nodded, lip curving in a natural smile.

"Funny you should mention... That's actually where I work, now. Or did... I guess if this job pans out, I won't have much of a need to go back to it. Darn shame. Working for a Georgian diplomatic with a fantastically narrow grasp on appropriate workplace banter. Grabby, that guy. Won't be too sorry to be done with all that."

As her drink arrive, she took a small sip, considering his words for a moment as a brow lifted. Her lip twitched into a smirk, and she shook her head with a soft chuckle, setting her glass down again, "That line usually work well for you, there, Orion?"

GIDEON KERNS
Laughing softly, not entirely disappointed the conversation had shifted to something more in his wheelhouse, either, Gideon nodded, "She was a tough old broad. Brought me up the best she could, even if I was a little hellion... Her words, not mind. Not sure I'd be half the man I am without her..."

His expression shifted for a moment, fell oddly cool as he stirred his drink in thought. His grandmother had been a wonderful woman, and she had been proud of him. But would she still have been able to say that, if she'd known before her passing what he had done? If she'd known what he'd become?

It was only a moments pause and the smile returned as he nodded, reaching out to press a hand just above the small of her back, to lead her through the crowd, towards the bar. It was impossible to talk in the fray, but as they arrived, he picked an unoccupied stool with one beside it and pulling a seat out for her, sank into the opposite, "So what are you a doctor of, Enna?"
 
Orion Petrove​
"Oh, only ten? Here I thought you were trying to be impressive, but ten… pfft, that's not so many," he said with a lame shrug, noting the shift in her demeanor. She went from being closed off and snarly to opening her posture towards him, even offering a small smile. If there was any talent in life Orion possessed that weren't explosive, it was his friendly personality. People oriented themselves towards him, always had. It didn't help he wasn't bad looking, either. He was well aware of his charm and looks, it seemed, and he smiled warmly, showing just a hint of the white teeth beneath his lips.

Finishing his second round of whiskey on the rocks, and feeling the swimming in his head from it, he didn't dart to order a third. Instead, he rested the emptied glass on his knee and bounced his foot, his eyes whisking around the bar. How many hundreds of people were crammed in, he wondered? Surely, he couldn't land the illustrious spot on the team, not half blind in one eye and colour blind in both. It was a nice vacation, at least. The last few scraps of savings he could pull together before he'd pack it all up and go back to his shabby little flat in the States, working for construction crews. He blinked, tilting his head just a bit to get his good eye a better look through the dim light.

He didn't mind the noodle dinners, or waiting until the last possible day to turn the heat on, but he did miss the sense of adventure. A nostalgia stirred within him, and he regretted every sip of alcohol he'd taken that evening. Whiskey always did him in.

"It doesn't, admittedly," he answered, turning his full attention back to her. "Most people hear the word terrorist and start wondering why I don't look like what they picture." He gave a shrug. "Shame, too. It's the least suspicious ones you ought to look out for."


Enna Sparks​


Enna noted the shift in his expression, calculating its meaning in a train of thought that slammed through her consciousness with the weight of a freight train. She didn't dare ask though, and bit down on her tongue lightly to prevent the question slipping through her teeth before she had the forethought to rein it in. They weren't friends; they didn't know each other. The doctor in her wanted to ask, but the human being refused. Instead, she smiled, pleased that the warmth returned to his face because it meant she didn't have to wrangle with her conscious any longer.

The guiding touch sent a surprising shiver up her spine, tingling at the nape of her neck like a cool breeze just whisked over her skin. She swallowed a dryness in her throat and followed under his escort, noting a cruel look shot her direction from across the bar by a redheaded woman. Her first instinct was to wonder if Gideon had a girlfriend, as that had happened in the past, but when the woman kept her station, Enna threw the thought back to the wind. She slid into the offered seat with a small thank you of gratitude.

"Depends on the day," she said after ordering a cocktail from the bartender who whipped past them like a hurricane on legs, with a panicked expression plastered to his face. "I work mostly in emergency medicine. Trauma, so, bullet wounds, knife fights, car accidents… kinda my thing," she explained, tensing her jaw to prevent herself from going any further. How long had it been since she'd been out, talking, flirting?

"What do you do then, Gideon?" Glancing in his direction, she wondered herself what he might do for a living. She could spend lifetimes people watching, assigning them stories in her head, but Gideon was something of an enigma to her… how he'd ever maintained any sense of humility with the looks he had was beyond her comprehension. She'd met, and dated, plenty of model types, yet Gideon put her to mind of the sweet, nerdy boy in the back of the class with comic books.


[/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS

Corrina laughed and shook her head, her shoulders rising in a shrug. In truth, she wasn't big on tooting her own horn, no matter how talented she was in languages... There would always be someone better, someone who knew more, and she knew well enough not to let pride get the best of her.

But she was good... "I mean... No one likes a show off. They just make sense to me. Languages. There's a beauty to them. Like art..." Her eyes moved to Orion again and she smirked, "Some people paint. I learn ancient Sanskrit."

Tapping her nails against the edge of her glass, she considered his words for a moment, shaking her head, "So are you openly confessing you're dangerous, there, Orion?"

GIDEON KERNS
A brow lifted at her words, and Gideon nodded as he took a sip from his glass, before setting it down on the countertop. He could've used another... He could've used ten more, but conversations had a tendency to shift in the wrong direction when he overdid it, and he'd just finished telling her he had been raised a gentleman...

For a moment, his expression fell cool again, as she mentioned her work, and his gaze shifted into his glass. It was cold in Prague that time of year, and his shoulder ached, even now, beneath his tux... It had been a good, long while, but he could still feel the shrapnel, burning through...

"Hm?" Looking up, he shrugged and the smile returned, calm and focused, "I'm a mechanic. Not as impressive as a doctor, I know... but I guess it was enough to get me invited to this Shindig. Wasn't too impressed, to be honest, till now..."
 
Orion Petrove​
"Art?" he chuckled, shaking his head at her. "You're talking too much culture for me. First language, now art? That's way beyond the scope of my brain." Orion enjoyed art, especially orchestral music, operas, plays… but that was something he didn't like to just let loose in public. There was a certain image a man like him felt compelled to possess. There were certain expectations from people he felt obliged to meet, and while he might have told Corrina he liked rap music, Saturday night football, and bottled beer… he didn't.

"Some people paint, you learned ancient Sanskrit, and I blow stuff up," he shrugged, glancing her direction from the corner of his eyes while sipping his whiskey. Not that he could see her well only side-glancing her, but no one would know any different if he didn't tell anyone. The woman's entire mood shifted in the last few minutes, he could feel it down to his bones. He took a bit of special pride in knowing he must have played a large part in that, show off or not.

"Me? Dangerous? Maybe once upon a time, but nah, not anymore. I work for construction companies these days as a free-lance demolitions guy. I did help take down a few old soccer and football stadiums, though. Some people with a lot of football spirit mighta called me dangerous, but no one else does." There had been a time in his life when he had been. But more than dangerous, he had been rash, unpredictable, violent. Death was irrelevant to him during his service in the bomb squad. In fact, there had been an element of excitement in his life knowing everyday was a risky one.

A small part of him missed it; it was that small part that brought him to the conference.


Enna Sparks​


She knew that look. How many times had she seen it? Boyfriends frustrated by the long hours; dates frustrated that she wasn't a mindless bimbo beneath the blonde hair and off-blue eyes. She didn't try to make assumptions but, being human, she was prone to them just as much as anyone else and she detested the sudden surge of unease swelling within her. The wavering confidence concealed easily beneath a soft smile and years spent studying human psychology—don't twitch the fingers, don't widen the eyes, breathe normally.

She wished, in her bag of tricks, there was something normal for her to talk about. Most people didn't find the surgery on the guy with a pick ax in the back of his skull entirely compelling, so the shift from her work to his was a welcome relief.

"As impressive?" she laughed, her head tilting back. "Well, I don't know anything about that, but I do know that this is an interesting event." It'd be heartbreaking to have to crawl back to her previous hospital if she didn't get any farther. Not that she intended to, really. She'd come to Prague to escape her own mortality, to ignore her biggest qualms in life.

The bartender sauntered over, carrying a drink he set down in front of Gideon. "From the redhead across the bar," he said in an annoyed tone, like he didn't think he was getting paid enough to deal with anyone's crap.

[/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS

A brow quirked as Corrina cocked her eye to him again, shaking her had, "You don't exactly strike me as culturally inept there, Orion. And I'm a pretty good judge of character, most days." Though, in truth, that particular day she wasn't entirely at her strongest, mentally or emotionally.

She had spent too long wallowing. She knew it. She knew it was time to pull herself out and get back into the world again, but it was hard, and time didn't always heal wounds when they went so deep...

Looking back down at her glass, her smile faded, and she traced her fingertip around the rim again, "I think we're all a little dangerous... But I wouldn't peg you for more so than most. At any rate, thanks... Not a lot of people here looking to have just a conversation, you know? I thought about going back up to my room, honestly, but I guess I'm just curious. This whole thing. Do... do you think it's real? That they've really got some sort of lead on Atlantis?"

GIDEON KERNS
"Interesting is the word for it, that's for sure. Not sure I believe it all, to be perfectly frank. It seems like a lot to ask a guy to believe in some city under water... But way I see it, it ain't my money being spent, and even a wild goose chase is worth it if you get paid in the end." Looking over at her, he smirked a little, "Not to mention the company's not half bad..."

His gaze adjusted to the bar tender as he set the drink down and Gideon frowned, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. He didn't look tot he red head, though he could feel her eyes boring into him. Instead, he shifted the glass back to the tender and smirked, "Think she's got the wrong guy, there, friend. Why don't you have it..."

Turning then, pointedly, towards Enna, he smiled, "Anyway... where were we? OH, right... If is real, though... can you imagine? Never did a lot in my life I can be proud of, but this? This is opportunity right here, Enna." Lifting his glass, he held it out to her, "...And I never knock opportunity. To taking chances."
 
Orion Petrove​
"I ain't cultured," he said, putting on a thick accent. "I'm Southern, bell. I believe in peaches, short shorts on hot women, and Sunday church." He gave her a playful wink and a lame smirk. His accent was hard to deny, and whether he was just astoundingly good at faking a Southern accent, or astoundingly good at faking a North accent, it was hard to say. Either way, he slid back into his Midwestern accent a beat later with a clearing of his throat.

"Well, the people here are… no one is here under good circumstances, you know? You don't fly this far for only the prospect of a job, not even a promise, if you have something good going on wherever you're from. Everyone in this room is miserable one way or another, and they're looking for a quick fix… sex, booze, whatever." He lolled his shoulders with a shrug, glancing about the room.

It was impossible to tell. People smiled, laughed, drank, and flirted… but they were all miserable. He could smell it.

"Do I think it's real? Nah, I think it's all horse shite, if you asked me. Think some rich guy with a journal managed to find something scientists haven't already for thousands of years? I think it's all a joke, but hey, if I were rich, I'd blow my money without thought, too. As someone who isn't rich, I ain't afraid to pretend like I believe for a hot minute to get a pay check. Plus, I miss the adventure of all this. I didn't always used to work in construction. I miss this. What about you? You a believer?


Enna Sparks​


"Real or not, I don't honestly care. I haven't thought about whether or not I believe in it. I just needed a change in scenery, and this seemed like a good choice. It was either this or Doctors without Borders, but I don't think I'd do as well in Kenya as I do here," she said with a sly half-smirk, sipping the drink. Over the rim of the glass, she watched the bartender snort, fumbling with the drink as if unsure what to do with it. His lips bobbled a few times like he was going to say something, but never did. Instead, he threw the drink on some counter below the bartop.

On the verge of commenting on 'you're turning down a free drink?,' Enna was interrupted by Gideon, who moved to change the topic at hand. She peeled the glass away from her lips and licked the taste of alcohol away from the corner of her lips.
"Yes, if it's real… it's quite… astounding," she admitted. A woman of science, she was hard-pressed to believe a lot. She'd lost her sense of childhood wonder years back under the rigid and commanding Sparks household. There wasn't left for her to want to impress. Grandpa was dead and she and Mrs Sparks hadn't spoken in years, not since the diagnosis. Opportunity fell out of her language for so long that it surprised her to hear the word again.

She'd heard it so much. In medical school, she had "so much opportunity," according to her professors. Opportunity ended a while back.

"To taking chances," she agreed, lifting her glass once more and letting hers chime against his. "And new opportunities, with very good company."


[/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS

"A southern bell... and a terrorist. You are a remarkably well rounded man, Bonito. As it turns out, I'm not big on short shorts, myself, but I still wear 'em pretty well, and if I don't attend Church, my Abuela--" Pausing suddenly, she shifted in her seat, looking away. There it was. It had been inevitable, really... that she'd eventually slip up - that she'd say or do something that brought it to mind.

As a cloud closed over her, she stared down into her glass, and her lip twitched into a frown, "...I'm not entirely sure what I am anymore, Orion. Been a rough few months, to be perfectly honest. Sort of in limbo, right now. Maybe that's why I'm here. Even if I don't get picked, it's something, you know? Something different, something to do. Feels better than sitting around, waiting for life to make sense again. I..." Pausing, she chewed at the edge of her lip, "I lost someone. Someone pretty important to me, and I guess being here, it... it's a way to forget. To move on, maybe?"

"But I dunno if I believe or not. Seems pretty farfetched, but so does half the stuff out there these days. I mean... Wasn't too long ago people thought the idea of the internet was crazy. Before that, women working was something to laugh at. Times change, things change, and crazy things happen, even if they don't feel like they ever could. Maybe we'll be surprised, you know?"


GIDEON KERNS
Chuckling softly, Gideon shrugged, "I mean... I dunno if it's any of my business, but I don't think you'd have much cause to wear a dress like that in Kenya... and that'd be a damn shame, for sure." It was an interesting concept, altogether... what they were doing, and maybe it was all just a load of crock, but even if it was, it was better than sitting around, feeling sorry for himself.... It was better than thinking, in general...

Her glass clinked against his own and he took a drink, smiling over the rim, before his eyes shifted past her to the stage opposite the bar. A man, thin and wiry, older, with a horseshoe baldness and bright green eyes stepped up to the small podium, tapping the microphone before clearing his throat.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Sir Isaac Stuart has asked that you would kindly collect yourself and your belongings and join us for dinner in the adjacent dining room. There, he will make his announcement, before the evening resumes." As he spoke, a pair of doors opened and standing, Gideon held his arm out to Enna with a nod.

"Ready?"

 
Orion Petrove​
"I prefer Southern Peach to Southern Bell," he said in a light-hearted done with a jingle of the ice-cubes in his glass. He sloshed them around a few more times before throwing another sip back, pleased with the burning warmth traversing the length of his throat and burning his belly. The shift in conversation aroused interest in him. His eyebrows lifted and he glanced to her over the rim of his glass, watching as she grappled with extreme and intense emotions.

From across the room, before they'd even shared their first word of conversation, he saw that pain rippling below her surface, though he hadn't expected it to bubble to the surface so quickly… or at all. After all, he was a stranger to her, but perhaps that's what made him ideal to her. Someone she could tell everything to, and never expect to see again.

Orion smiled and set his glass down on the bar, now nothing more than melted ice-cube water faintly tinted with the liquor that it once contained. "You're not in bad company here, I assure you," he said, his eyes sweeping across the lobby. Every one of them must have been miserable saps, he thought; him non-excluded.

"Sorry for your loss though, miss," he said, his gaze wandering back to her. "It's not easy missin' someone. It'll get better though, with time. It always does."

The announcement ended whatever else Orion had to say on the matter. His smile deepened as he slid from his barstool and straightened his jacket. "Maybe we'll all be surprised. Who knows. Ready for supper?"


Enna Sparks​


"No, you're right," Enna replied with a bubble of laughter. "Though, I'm glad you find it satisfactory." There was always going to be that little girl inside Enna. The one who, despite having greasy hair and filthy scrubs most days from long hours, loved to dress up. The one who loved to feel pretty and blushed ever-so slightly at every compliment. Sure, men at bars, or even at the hospital, passed casual glances, whistles, and snide comments about her ass in her direction every now and again, there was something pleasing about hearing it fall from more polite, refined lips.

Their conversation, and the conversations around them, were interrupted by the announcement of dinner, to which her stomach growled eagerly in response. She'd nearly forgotten how hungry she'd been after her flight thanks to her company, but the mention of food brought the stomach pangs back in full pelt.

"I am, yes," she answered, sliding from her stood and taking Gideon's arm with a grateful look. "Here is hoping to the best, right?" If nothing else, at least she got dinner, alcohol, and a conversation with a handsome man out of the deal. Even if she were to have to pack up and fly home, tail tucked, the next day, it was well worth the trip. They'd been told upfront each position on the endeavor would have competition, but not how much. A flutter ripped through the stomach, distorting her hunger. She couldn't go back home, not after that stupid surgeon told her she'd never make it far.

Alas, the outcome was out of her control.


[/hr]
 
CORRINA JACOBS

"No..." She said softly, and her lip turned up in a small, sad smile, "I'm not. Thank you, Orion. You've been wonderful, honestly. A very nice distraction. And for what it's worth, if I do end up going on this ludicrous trip, I hope very much that you're chosen, as well."

The smile twitched away as he continued, and she nodded again, "And thanks for that, too. it's been a long time, but today is something of an anniversary. I know people say I ought to be over it by now, but... well... some people leave a bigger impact, and those craters are the hardest to fill." Rising, she took her drink and as the announcement was made for dinner, she looked to Orion again, smiling faintly.

"I'm ready. You'll sit with me?" She was a little surprised then, by the intonation... by the subtle notes of hopefulness behind it. She had enjoyed his company, even if at first it hadn't been exactly welcome, and the thought of this being the last conversation they had wasn't entirely appealing...

But she didn't want to sound too eager, either, "I mean... you don't have to, but if I get stuck with one of these other cads, well... I won't thank you for it."


GIDEON KERNS
Had Gideon been in a different mood, or had he had perhaps just a few more drinks, he might've remarked that he would have liked the dress better on the floor of his hotel room. But he had meant what he'd said about his grandmother, and thus far, surprisingly enough, it had been rather easy to maintain a sense of self control. The urge to indulge wasn't quite as apparent when his company was so charming, all on her own.

Taking her arm, with a small, pleasant chuckle, he nodded, "Here's to hoping..." And he meant that, as well. He liked Enna. Surprisingly, he liked her... and that was an unusual think for Gideon. He wasn't a social person, by nature, but there was something about her that just... easy. Something about her that felt natural and refreshing. She was real, and even if he wasn't, himself - even if he could never claim to have been entirely open with her, she made him wanna be truthful as possible...

Inside the dining room, he found an empty table and pulled out a chair for her, before seating himself. They wouldn't find out until the morning whether or not they had made it onto the expedition, but he could see her nerves eating away at her and a small frown formed as he flattened his napkin onto his lap, "So... I'll make a deal with you. How about if you don't make it, I don't go... even if I do get picked. You and me, we just... I dunno. We go backpacking through South America or something crazy and irresponsible. How's that sound?"
 
Orion Petrove​
"It's unlikely for me," he explained. "I'm blind in one eye. Couldn't tell it at face value, but…" he smiled, a warm, luxurious smile like chocolate pudding introduced after years of vanilla. Pressing his pointer finger towards his eye, his smirk widened into a grin. Most people weren't even able to tell, as he'd gotten better at hiding it over the years. The outward tissue was still healthy; it moved like normal, looked like normal, and he only slightly tilted his head every so often to get better looks at things with his good eye. Most wouldn't have been able to tell, but it was splattered like a neon sign all across his medical history.

Some big, fancy expedition wouldn't likely want someone with a compromised sense and that didn't seem to bother him much. It was an impediment that could be frustrating at times, but not debilitating. He gave thanks he still had 20/20 in one eye, and the accident hadn't left him completely blind in both. He could still work, drive… see pretty women at bars. It wasn't a bad gig.

Sliding up, he gave a nod. "Sure," he agreed, glad for the familiar company. There was something perpetually uncomfortable about walking into a room chalk full of strangers, so, going in with someone he at least knew the first name of felt comforting, to say the least. "Wouldn't want you to get stuck with a cad. I've had my fair share of curses, don't need one from you now, too."

He sauntered alongside of her towards the dining hall, which was as exquisite as the name 'dining hall' implied. Silk wall hangings turned into glossy sheets of gold in the low, candlelight dining space. Tantalizing aromas of roasted duck, potatoes, and wine filled the air over clinks of glassware and silverware made of actual silver.

The tables were large and round, dotting the floor every three or four feet apart and sat up to about ten each. Lacking name placards, individuals chose seats based on earlier conversations. Finding an empty pair near the center of the room, Orion motioned towards them.

"That work?"

Enna Sparks​


The chair was pulled out in the dining hall, and Enna stepped into it to sit down while her head was tilted back, admiring the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling by golden chains up the spine of the room. The lights reflected off the glass of the voluminous crystal chandelier, hanging like some glory-cloud above the room's center. There were two smaller to either side of it, adding low light all throughout the hall. Candles at the center of each table flickered and drew long, ever-moving shadows across the floor and faces of their dinner mates. None of whom gave them any mind as they joined the table.

Instead, chatter rose towards the chandelier—a thousand conversations told in loud voices, all competing with each other.

Enna picked her burgundy linen from beneath her silverware and smoothed it across her lap, resting her hands there for a minute to keep them from fidgeting elsewhere. The grand space and the insurmountable number of people was intimidating. At very least, the smell of the food brought a gurgle of hunger through her, and she looked forward to the meal.

"Hm?" Her eyes shifted with surprise back to Gideon as she realized her attention wandered with the prodigious presence of the hotel's hall. When her brain finally caught up with the words he spoke, it took her several more moments to believe what she heard was correct. Nearly a complete strangers, throwing away a metaphorical opportunity of a lifetime for someone he hardly knew? Enna smiled.

"I've never done anything crazy or irresponsible my entire life, before accepting to come here. Maybe I should try being a little wild more often. Very well, Gideon, I will take you up on that offer." Her smile, warm and fuzzy, transformed into something more of a knowing smirk. "And if I get picked and you don't, we shall still go to South America."
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