Setting
a resort nestled in the mountains of switzerland.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Dômes Resort is a part of 
Kingsman: International Affairs.
11 Characters Here
Lucy Theodora [5] "It's hard to be a good person, but harder to be an apathetic one."
Junji Harada [5] "And make it a double."
Camila de'Santo [4] "No matter how many times a snake sheds its skin, it is still a snake."
Zahira Varma [4] Codename: Vishnu
Elijah Patrov [3] Zdrastvooyte!
Lorenzo Estrada [3] Codename: Jaguar
Erik Wright [3] cypher
Angelica Stendahl [2] Codename: Jareth
Hyun-jun Cha [1] "I'm pretty sure it's possible to save your country and have fun while doing it, don't you?"
Jamie Innes [1] "If nothing exciting happens in these two weeks I'll eat my hat."
Start Character Here »
A N D R O M E D A x M E R C I E R
canada x • x outfit x • x #4d0d1e
C H A x H Y U N - J U N
south korea x • x outfit x • x #e3b005
J A M I E x I N N E S
scotland / ian x • x outfit x • x #2e4e43
L U C Y x T H E O D O R A
indonesia x • x outfit x • x #ca8462
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"I'm sure it's all right, sir," Gilbert, the manager, tried to reassure him for what must have been the fourth time that morning. "Sondra is quite capable, and she will have made sure that no one has been overlooked."
"And I will have double-checked, and triple-checked that besides," In-young sighed, wresting the clipboard from Jamie's hands. "Please don't question my work ethic in such an insulting manner."
"But what if unforeseen problems—" Jamie began to protest. In-young held up a hand, clearly tired of his fretting. "We will deal with those when—if—they arise. We've been through this before, you've made your contingency plans. Everything is going to be just fine."
Jamie stopped to process this, clearly caught between his borderline obsessive need for control and not wanting to test the IAN secretary's patience any further. Eventually he gave in, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "You're right."
"I always am." She couldn't resist preening a bit. "Now let me take over the registration process, and you can go and have some breakfast with Gilbert, yes?" She flapped the clipboard at him, shooing him out of the front hall. "I promise to tell you when people start arriving."
———
An hour later the first chartered bus pulled into the roundabout at the resort's entrance, courtesy of IAN's collaboration with a local bus company to ensure a steady stream of buses between the airport, car-free Zermatt, and the resort. Andromeda Mercier was one of the last few people to alight, collecting her bags from where the driver was unloading them with a murmured thanks and rolling them into the front hall. She took a moment to admire her surroundings. The building was angled so as to allow natural light to flood the room through a row of glass doors off to the side, highlighting the interior of the hall which had been designed with a sleek, minimalist atmosphere in mind. Everything was cold marble and bronze, a stark contrast to the warm beauty of the lake and mountains just on the other side of the glass doors, and Andromeda felt as if she was standing right in the middle of the two settings, caught between the worlds of the natural and the artificial.
Already a short line had formed at the front desk, with two young girls working separately to register the arrivals. They appeared to be locals; a slight Asian woman hovered behind both of them, no doubt keeping an eye on their registration process—she probably didn't work for the resort. As she joined the line, Andromeda noted the other individuals strategically positioned around the front hall, making a mental note of the ones who looked like they did this all the time—no doubt the local employees of the resort—and the ones who were scrutinising each arrival as carefully as they were being scrutinised—the members of the International Agents' Network committee, then.
The line moved quickly, and soon Andromeda found herself at the counter, looking down at the receptionist. "Hello!" the girl chirped. "Your invite, please?"
A printout of the email invite that had been sent to each individual agent to confirm their presence at the conference; the instruction that a physical copy would be necessary for the process of checking in had been duly noted. Andromeda slid the folded piece of paper over the counter, and the girl began entering the information into her counter. With her being the last one to be processed, Andromeda was acutely aware of the attention being directed her way by both the receptionists, the Asian woman, and the others standing around the hall.
"Alright, Ms Mercier. Your room is 303, on the third floor of the South Wing. Here's your keys—" a single keycard with the room number printed on it was placed on the counter "—and your identification." A lanyard joined the keycard, a neatly printed card with Andromeda's name and agency printed on it. "South Wing is up that way, through those doors, the building just down the lane. Scan your card at the gate to get through, and then in the lift before selecting your floor. Let Gilbert over there know if you need help with your luggage. Breakfast is being served in the South Wing's dining hall. Here's a map of the resort with a list of our amenities and available services. And a schedule of the conference activities." The girl returned Andromeda's email invite to her, along with a card-sized map and the schedule.
"Thanks." Tucking the papers carefully into her coat pocket and slinging the lanyard around her neck, Andromeda headed in the direction of the South Wing. The doors led her out of the building and down a concrete path, to the only other building in sight. Buzzing herself through the security gate, she could already smell hot coffee from down the hallway, presumably in the direction of the dining room. Already she was planning the next hour in her head—she was going to down as many cups of coffee as she could physically keep down. Find out if they served French toast. And then, only then, would she try to meet some of the other agents.
———
Lucy had been in Zermatt for a couple of days before the conference's beginning, holed up in a cheap bed and breakfast, taking advantage of the free time to wander around and explore the village before it was time to head down to the conference. She hadn't seen anyone around that might have been the other agents, or if they were also wandering around Zermatt Lucy had her the fortune to avoid them.
This morning she'd checked out of the B&B after a simple breakfast, and turned up at the pickup point bright and early. The email invite had specified that chartered buses would be running between Zermatt and the resort all day, allowing the conference attendees time to get there and settle down, maybe acquaint themselves with the surrounding area if they so wished. Lucy considered it better to turn up early and scout the location out—she had looked up all the information she could, but it didn't compare to seeing the place in person.
The bus pulled up, and the driver got out to help load Lucy's bags on, but she waved him off. Her things weren't heavy at all, and she didn't need assistance. The driver backed away respectfully, and she got on without much trouble, settling herself into a seat at the back. No one else got onboard, and after a twenty minute wait the bus pulled away.
Lucy turned to look back at the village as it moved further and further away, and made eye contact with the young man sitting in the aisle across from her. He grinned, flashing a mouthful of neat, small teeth. "Hi. Cha Hyun-jun, Cheonsanju. Where are you from?"
She accepted his handshake, a little reluctantly. He seemed chatty, and she wasn't the best at conversation. "Lucy, Karaton Majapahit. Indonesia," she clarified.
"You were staying in the village before this, huh? I couldn't be bothered," he confessed with a conspiratorial smile, running his hand through his rumpled hair. "My flight landed yesterday evening, and I spent so much time exploring the airport that I had to sleep in the chairs there. They're super comfortable, though. I would probably do it again." He kept up the steady stream of commentary the entire journey, sparing Lucy the necessity of having to talk about herself. Even when they arrived at the resort he kept it up, chattering as he helped her to unload their things, as they registered their presence in the front hall, and down the path to the South Wing. Lucy was granted reprieve only when he got off the lift—his room was on the second floor, hers on the third.
"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around. It was nice meeting you, Lucy." The lift doors slid closed, and she finally had a bit of quiet to herself.
Her room looked comfortable enough, the balcony looking out over the lake, the curtains pulled back to let the sun shine in. Lucy resisted the urge to flop down on the bed. She did, however, sit down at the desk, turning the chair to face the balcony to soak it all in. There was never anything this beautiful and calm back home; back home it was a constant drone of cars and calling voices, and Lucy rarely had a moment of silence to herself like this.
Another minute, and she'd gotten out of the chair, heading out of her room. There would be time to unpack and get comfortable later. Right now she wanted to take a walk around the resort, maybe even tackle one of the hiking trails before lunchtime. As she got out of the lift on the first floor, she bumped into someone on their way in, taking a step back in order to steady herself. "Sorry."
———
To say Hyun-jun was having one of the best times of his life was probably an understatement. Sure, he was here for a work conference, and yes, he was expected to maintain a certain level of professionalism, but headquarters wasn't breathing over his shoulder, and the air was so clear and cold even for the beginning of summer that every breath felt refreshing. This was way better than the trip he'd made to Jeju Island with his parents the last time he'd managed to get a hard-won break from work.
Entering his room for the first time, he almost laughed in delight—glass doors on the other side of the room opened out onto a balcony that faced the lake, and the expanse of water stretched out blue and glittering as far as he could see. This place was beautiful. He didn't forget to take a quick, calculating look around the room, noting its layout and blind spots, but with nothing of real noteworthiness he'd bounded across the room and thrown the balcony doors open, almost falling over the railing as he pressed himself against it. A cool breeze blew in, and he closed his eyes and smiled. He'd lucked out big time on this assignment.
After a moment Hyun-jun's stomach growled, and he was forced to return to reality. He felt grimy from the flight, and the bagel he'd grabbed at the airport before boarding the bus was all but digested. A quick shower, and then he was going to check out the dining hall.
Twenty minutes later he was down in the dining hall. It wasn't super big—this was no Four Seasons—but a good range of food was laid out, and he spotted an egg station. A sign noted that lunch service would begin at twelve. Hyun-jun's stomach made another grumbling noise as if telling him to get on with it already, and he started towards the tables, picking up a plate.
J u n j i x H a r a d a
Japan • #cc0e0e
The flight from Tokyo to Swizerland meant seventeen hours in the sky, with a single stop somewhere in the middle. Airtravel was comparable to being stuck in a limital zone: an in-between state without the demands of the normal world. It'd be uncomfortable if not for his first-class ticket, which afforded him the luxury of stretching out in the otherwise crampt compartment. Junji let himself do nothing but drink and watch old movies, content with the lightweight feeling flying brought him. Childishly, he sunk into the lounge chair beneath the complimentary blanket, nursing a whiskey or beer or whathaveyou halfway across the world.
He arrived in Switzerland in quite a state. Beyond tipsy yet bottles away from blackout, Junji drifted through the airport like a sleepwalker. He followed the motions, breezed through customs without incident, to suddenly find himself out in the crisp, morning air, accompanied by his two compatriots. Three from Kiku no wa were sent here on this so-called diplomatic assignment. Their organization feigned neutrality and preferred limiting their cooperation with other agencies, but they still had a stake in the game. The other two were his superiors: Tanaka Keiko, a mature woman, and Inoue Noboru, a grim man. They were older and permeated an air of sophistication, whereas he filled the role of their vigilant bodyguard. Ideally, the conference will end well, and he won't have to do much of anything.
When waiting for the shuttle they smoked together, to which he cringed at the foreignness of Swiss tobacco. No one talked, they shared in the silence and would until they arrived at the hotel. They were polite people, who fit into polite society, and as he understood it, that's how the world worked.
They entered the resort like a small murder of crows. Everyone wore their black suits, topped with heads of neat, black hair and the same morbid expression. If this persona was a mask then he smiled beneath it, finding their entourage amusing for the commitment to rigidness. While they spoke to the hostess he appreciated their surroundings, a modernist retreat dropped in the middle of the Alps. Grand windows connected the ceiling and the floor, giving the illusion of endless, open space. Nonetheless, the glass acted as a barrier between the civilized world and the wilds beyond. Dotted along this line were people clearly positioned to protect it, and his appreciation soon turned to scrutiny. Who was just a hotel employee, and who was brought here by the International Agents' Network? The uniformity created vagueness, and he made the mental note to not overlook even the most insignificant employee.
By the time they stood by the elevators, now with their lanyards and keycards, a wave of exhaustion came over him. The energy he felt from drinking now dipped to sluggishness, worsening the jetlag that already attacked his internal clock. However tired as he was, he could not collapse and sleep the day away for the most practical reasons. He needed coffee, desperately, and so the promise of a breakfast buffet kept him on his toes. First, he needed to throw his bags in his room, unable to trust anyone else to handle his things - even more so when surrounded by so many like himself. In front of his superiors, he eyed the descending numbers of the elevator, up until it announced its arrival when he stepped forward and hit a solid force.
Shit. Real professional. He collided with a young woman and cursed in Japanese beneath his breath. She apologized quickly, composing herself by the door of the elevator. Naturally, it felt wrong to accept an apology after nearly bulldozing her over, and he had to save face in front of Inoue and Tanaka. "No, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, immediately switching to English.
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There was always something peaceful about flying. Maybe it was the being thousands of feet above the ground where the world felt like a distant memory. Or perhaps it was simply the first class accommodations and the little bag of nuts. Zahira was always someone who enjoyed the little things in life, since it proved to be so fleeting. She didn't bother herself with an inflight movie. Instead she was more than content watching the land roll by beneath her through the window or a little bit of light reading.
It wasn't a short flight and at one point or another she was certain she dozed off. But before she knew it, the tires hit the runway as the plane finally landed in Switzerland. Most of her work was focused in Asia, so stepping out into the airport was like landing in a different world. People travel all the time, but they never tell you how different it is going from one side of the world to the other. This was the first time she had ever stepped foot in Europe. Part of herself was saddened at the thought that she couldn't explore and be a tourist, if even for a moment.
Zahira was so in awe of her surroundings that she didn't even notice she missed a bus depart. She chuckled to herself with a shake of her head. She took her timing making her way over to the bench to wait for another bus. With a sigh, she took a seat on the bench, standing her suitcase up beside her. Zahira didn't mind waiting though, instead taking in the smell of the crisp air and the gorgeous view of the mountains.
Lorenzo lost a day in flight alone due to the time zones and the length of the flight. It wasn't the most comfortable journey, although that was his own doing. He couldn't justify using Los Guardianes de Xibalba's money to give him a nicer seat when it could be used for better means. So, he's knees were practically in the seat in front of him, while it was nearly impossible to not elbow the person to his left. But he managed.
When his flight arrived, jetlag hit him hard. Enzo could barely recall when he left, but it felt like it should have been time for him to go to bed, yet in Switzerland the world was just waking. Before heading out to the buses, he detoured to the nearest coffee shop and got him a large something or other to help wake him up. There was no time to sleep, not right now anyway.
As he stepped outside and quickly noticed a woman waiting on a bus who stuck out like a peacock in a flock of chickens. A dark haired beauty in standard clothing of someone from India, if he recalled correctly. Although Enzo couldn't remember the name of it. Seeing a woman like that, he couldn't help but wonder if she was there for the same reason as himself, and seeing her waiting on the same transportation as himself only made this curiosity grow.
"May I?" he asked, motioning the index finger of the hand that held his coffee at the bench beside the woman.
"Of course," Zahira replied. She quickly gathered the extra fabric of her saree and draped it over her lap to make room for the man. She gave him a warm smile, brushing her hair behind her ears as he took the seat beside her.
Enzo set his bag down beside him and took a sip of his coffee before he decided to speak up again. "Lorenzo Estrada," he introduced himself while offering her an extended hand.
She took his hand gently and gave it a small shake. "Zahira Varma."
"Nice to meet you, Zahira." He nodded his head toward the mountain. "Are you heading to the Dômes Resort?"
Before she could answer, another bus arrived. Zahira didn't answer, she simply smirked a bit before getting to her feet. She reached for her suitcase, but Enzo was there first, taking the handle in one hand. "Allow me," he offered as he took their bags to the driver. While she did that, she made her way onto the bus, taking a seat somewhere in the middle. It wasn't long before Lorenzo joined her and the bus began it's ascension up the mountain.
The drive was silent as they both watch the scenery change from a small town to mountainous greenery. Zahira found herself smiling at it. Peaceful. It took more time than she would have thought to reach the top, but she didn't mind the journey. She couldn't help but be slightly surprised at Lorenzo's chivalry. He was first to his feet and out of the bus, just so he could offer a hand in descending the stairs. And once again he grabbed her bag for her, along with his own.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Lorenzo followed Zahira into the resort and up to the secretary's desk. "Hello! And welcome to the Dômes Resort. May I have your invitation, please?"
Zahira reached into her purse and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She then glanced over her shoulder toward Enzo, extending an open hand to him. With his hands full, he motions his head to toward the left pocket of his sports coat. She slowly stepped forward and took his invitation from the indicated pocket. She unfolded them both and handed them over to the secretary.
"Ok, Ms. Varma and Mr. Estrada, here are your identification cards. Ms. Varma, you shall be in room 309. Mr. Estrada, room 305." The woman then kindly pointed in the direction their rooms were in, ironically only a few rooms off from one another. "Let Gilbert over there know if you need help with your luggage."
"Thank you, but I think I have it."
"Very well. Breakfast is being served in the South Wing's dining hall. Here's a map of the resort with a list of our amenities and available services. And a schedule of the conference activities."
"I can help you to your room if you'd like. Since we'll practically be neighbors." Lorenzo smiled and motioned toward the elevators.
Zahira nodded her head, holding both of their badges in her hand. As she followed him, she took the moment to look over his. It wasn't until they were in the elevator that she finally decided to address it. "I've never been to Central America. Where are you from?"
"Guatemala. Los Guardianes de Xibalba is compromised of multiple nations since they are all quite smaller. Unlike India," he added with a slight nod of his head and a smile.
"I suppose I'm not quite as subtle," Zahira commented on her attire before handing Enzo his ID.
The elevator arrived to their floor and Zahira stopped just before stepping out, avoiding a collision with two others. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"Pardon us," Zahira said as she tried to get enough room for them to step out of the elevator before setting off the alarm. "Are you both ok?"
There was always something peaceful about flying. Maybe it was the being thousands of feet above the ground where the world felt like a distant memory. Or perhaps it was simply the first class accommodations and the little bag of nuts. Zahira was always someone who enjoyed the little things in life, since it proved to be so fleeting. She didn't bother herself with an inflight movie. Instead she was more than content watching the land roll by beneath her through the window or a little bit of light reading.
It wasn't a short flight and at one point or another she was certain she dozed off. But before she knew it, the tires hit the runway as the plane finally landed in Switzerland. Most of her work was focused in Asia, so stepping out into the airport was like landing in a different world. People travel all the time, but they never tell you how different it is going from one side of the world to the other. This was the first time she had ever stepped foot in Europe. Part of herself was saddened at the thought that she couldn't explore and be a tourist, if even for a moment.
Zahira was so in awe of her surroundings that she didn't even notice she missed a bus depart. She chuckled to herself with a shake of her head. She took her timing making her way over to the bench to wait for another bus. With a sigh, she took a seat on the bench, standing her suitcase up beside her. Zahira didn't mind waiting though, instead taking in the smell of the crisp air and the gorgeous view of the mountains.
Lorenzo lost a day in flight alone due to the time zones and the length of the flight. It wasn't the most comfortable journey, although that was his own doing. He couldn't justify using Los Guardianes de Xibalba's money to give him a nicer seat when it could be used for better means. So, he's knees were practically in the seat in front of him, while it was nearly impossible to not elbow the person to his left. But he managed.
When his flight arrived, jetlag hit him hard. Enzo could barely recall when he left, but it felt like it should have been time for him to go to bed, yet in Switzerland the world was just waking. Before heading out to the buses, he detoured to the nearest coffee shop and got him a large something or other to help wake him up. There was no time to sleep, not right now anyway.
As he stepped outside and quickly noticed a woman waiting on a bus who stuck out like a peacock in a flock of chickens. A dark haired beauty in standard clothing of someone from India, if he recalled correctly. Although Enzo couldn't remember the name of it. Seeing a woman like that, he couldn't help but wonder if she was there for the same reason as himself, and seeing her waiting on the same transportation as himself only made this curiosity grow.
"May I?" he asked, motioning the index finger of the hand that held his coffee at the bench beside the woman.
"Of course," Zahira replied. She quickly gathered the extra fabric of her saree and draped it over her lap to make room for the man. She gave him a warm smile, brushing her hair behind her ears as he took the seat beside her.
Enzo set his bag down beside him and took a sip of his coffee before he decided to speak up again. "Lorenzo Estrada," he introduced himself while offering her an extended hand.
She took his hand gently and gave it a small shake. "Zahira Varma."
"Nice to meet you, Zahira." He nodded his head toward the mountain. "Are you heading to the Dômes Resort?"
Before she could answer, another bus arrived. Zahira didn't answer, she simply smirked a bit before getting to her feet. She reached for her suitcase, but Enzo was there first, taking the handle in one hand. "Allow me," he offered as he took their bags to the driver. While she did that, she made her way onto the bus, taking a seat somewhere in the middle. It wasn't long before Lorenzo joined her and the bus began it's ascension up the mountain.
The drive was silent as they both watch the scenery change from a small town to mountainous greenery. Zahira found herself smiling at it. Peaceful. It took more time than she would have thought to reach the top, but she didn't mind the journey. She couldn't help but be slightly surprised at Lorenzo's chivalry. He was first to his feet and out of the bus, just so he could offer a hand in descending the stairs. And once again he grabbed her bag for her, along with his own.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Lorenzo followed Zahira into the resort and up to the secretary's desk. "Hello! And welcome to the Dômes Resort. May I have your invitation, please?"
Zahira reached into her purse and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She then glanced over her shoulder toward Enzo, extending an open hand to him. With his hands full, he motions his head to toward the left pocket of his sports coat. She slowly stepped forward and took his invitation from the indicated pocket. She unfolded them both and handed them over to the secretary.
"Ok, Ms. Varma and Mr. Estrada, here are your identification cards. Ms. Varma, you shall be in room 309. Mr. Estrada, room 305." The woman then kindly pointed in the direction their rooms were in, ironically only a few rooms off from one another. "Let Gilbert over there know if you need help with your luggage."
"Thank you, but I think I have it."
"Very well. Breakfast is being served in the South Wing's dining hall. Here's a map of the resort with a list of our amenities and available services. And a schedule of the conference activities."
"I can help you to your room if you'd like. Since we'll practically be neighbors." Lorenzo smiled and motioned toward the elevators.
Zahira nodded her head, holding both of their badges in her hand. As she followed him, she took the moment to look over his. It wasn't until they were in the elevator that she finally decided to address it. "I've never been to Central America. Where are you from?"
"Guatemala. Los Guardianes de Xibalba is compromised of multiple nations since they are all quite smaller. Unlike India," he added with a slight nod of his head and a smile.
"I suppose I'm not quite as subtle," Zahira commented on her attire before handing Enzo his ID.
The elevator arrived to their floor and Zahira stopped just before stepping out, avoiding a collision with two others. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"Pardon us," Zahira said as she tried to get enough room for them to step out of the elevator before setting off the alarm. "Are you both ok?"
x
Camila hasn't always felt great about what she does now. As she settled into the opulent alcove of her first class flight, she closed her eyes and sighed softly to herself. Diplomacy was something for the velvet-handed doe, but they sent her. They could have sent anyone else that could yield better results with a bunch of strangers, but they decided to torture her instead. Not that she was going to complain about going to Switzerland, of all places.
She tilted her head and spared a glance for a passing flight attendant, whose wrist she'd lightly ensnare for a little attention. Once she caught it, Camila offered the woman a matte-red-lipped smile, and in her sweetest voice, "Can I get a few of those quite travel-sized bottles of tequila?" Her British accent was soft, yet her enunciation sharp and clear. The lady nodded, retrieved said bottles, and placed them on her tray.
Ten minutes into the flight, and Camila was well on her way to separating from her body until she put herself to sleep. There was no way in hell that she was going to actually survive being awake on a plane. Even if it wasn't her first flight, she had developed a healthy fear of being thousands of feet off of the ground. As normal people should.
Elijah, on the other hand, was perfectly fine sitting with the common folk in the economy class - or whatever they called it - he forgot. Though his situation was a bit snug, he enjoyed the conversation with someone. His neighbor was an elderly lady, and they exchanged conversation in the mother-tongue about this and that. He even flirted around a little, as charming as ever. While geriatric wasn't a flavor he liked to sample, he knew that she never felt younger in the last ten years. Besides, it was all fun and games and everyone came out with a smile and a good flight.
Everything was going great until Camila's body collided with a hunk of muscle. Surprisingly gentle hands caught her carefully by the waist, as if it was just second-nature for him to react this way. Who could blame her, really? She's more than intoxicated and just barely waking up.
"Prosti," his deep set voice apologized, even though she had run into him - not the other way around. However, she didn't seem to appreciate the way he was clinging onto her - like something meek and fragile, maybe made of glass, too. Like men always want to hold women as if a tumble would have broken her. It was also logical that she's simply intoxicated enough to have an over-inflated sense of self without the ability to recognize that she's obviously having trouble with proprioception.
"Unhand me, oaf," she demanded, and he complied with a bout of laughter and the dramatics of putting his hands up in the air.
"Lady on plane said woman would be lucky to have these hands on them," he grinned, and just for some addictional and unwelcome comedic spice, he wriggles his fingers and moves his brows up and down.
She scoffed after having noted that her bag was on the way, "Was this lady an old blind bat?" Camila leaned forward and snatched the bag from the conveyor belt. It would seem that Elijah would also snag his own.
"She not bat or blind," he responded, and as if on queue, he waved to said older lady and gave her a playful wink.
Camila's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her skull and they both parted ways...
... Only to end up on the same bus. Just when he thought he might get away with sitting next to her, she threw one of her smaller bags down on the empty seat and glared at him. No. Not today. Camila didn't like strangers, and she certainly didn't want to have a conversation with someone that could barely speak English. He seemed a little slow, and she deserves a better conversational partner.
Instead, he sits behind her. She felt the weight of two brawny arms folding over the head of her chair, pulling it back as he pulled himself forward to invade her private space. "Do you believe fate?" He inquired, his voice husky and low - just for the effect of being a pest.
She swatted at him, "Did you not get taught manners in whatever hellhole birthed you?"
"What did you my mother call?" He laughed at that, and she felt the release of her chair's back as he finally decided to sit back and stop bugging the shit out of her. He heard her sigh and then mutter what was likely expletives fashioned of annoyance.
The pair finally arrived at their destination, and he offered to help with her bags. He only had one suitcase and she seemed to have carried her wardrobe and bathroom with her. Again, he's swatted away but she's her own woman - Miss. Independent, as the song title says. He relents with some hesitance, for as handsy and offhandedly joking as he was, he's also a gentleman.
"Wait - please, tell me you're not staying here," she stopped in her tracks and spun around to stare at him. Please, God, for the love of all things holy - maybe he just got off on the wrong stop.
He leaned a little to the right to look past her toward the resort, feigned a moment's thought, and looked her deadpan, "I'm not staying here," he casually parroted, shrugged and continued on his way anyhow. This just left Camila confused and paused for a brief few moments before she also moved inside.
Camila got comfortable in her room, and Elijah in his. Thankfully the pair would not be neighbors. She needed breakfast, even though it wasn't exactly that time for her. She's way jet-lagged and still coming down from the tequila. Sort of. She wandered out of her room, moved to an elevator, stepped inside, and lazily pushed a button. The 4th floor pinged to the 3rd.... to the 2nd, and then the doors open.
Elijah's dumb, handsome, grinning face popped up and she tried to press that button for closing the door quickly. He slipped inside and made himself casually comfortable, as if they were two good friends. "I begin think you like me, gadyuka."
Before a retort could leave her lips, the doors pinged open and she tried to click-clack in her heels swiftly past him, through the doors, and to the Southwing dining hall. The woman, as rude as ever, brushed past the car wreck of people while adding a few shoulder brushes and bumps along the way, and she seemed to be in a hurry to disappear.
Meanwhile, Elijah casually strolled behind her, his hands delved deep into his pockets. "Moya lyubov', Why you run?" He wasn't going to add to the pile-up happening, but he did offer up a smile or two at the very least.
Camila gave Elijah a very daring look whilst buttering a piece of toast with a knife that was not typically used for butter. Elijah didn't want to get stabbed right off the bat, so he made sure to grab a table across the room. Even he knows when to quit! For now, at least.
She tilted her head and spared a glance for a passing flight attendant, whose wrist she'd lightly ensnare for a little attention. Once she caught it, Camila offered the woman a matte-red-lipped smile, and in her sweetest voice, "Can I get a few of those quite travel-sized bottles of tequila?" Her British accent was soft, yet her enunciation sharp and clear. The lady nodded, retrieved said bottles, and placed them on her tray.
Ten minutes into the flight, and Camila was well on her way to separating from her body until she put herself to sleep. There was no way in hell that she was going to actually survive being awake on a plane. Even if it wasn't her first flight, she had developed a healthy fear of being thousands of feet off of the ground. As normal people should.
Elijah, on the other hand, was perfectly fine sitting with the common folk in the economy class - or whatever they called it - he forgot. Though his situation was a bit snug, he enjoyed the conversation with someone. His neighbor was an elderly lady, and they exchanged conversation in the mother-tongue about this and that. He even flirted around a little, as charming as ever. While geriatric wasn't a flavor he liked to sample, he knew that she never felt younger in the last ten years. Besides, it was all fun and games and everyone came out with a smile and a good flight.
Everything was going great until Camila's body collided with a hunk of muscle. Surprisingly gentle hands caught her carefully by the waist, as if it was just second-nature for him to react this way. Who could blame her, really? She's more than intoxicated and just barely waking up.
"Prosti," his deep set voice apologized, even though she had run into him - not the other way around. However, she didn't seem to appreciate the way he was clinging onto her - like something meek and fragile, maybe made of glass, too. Like men always want to hold women as if a tumble would have broken her. It was also logical that she's simply intoxicated enough to have an over-inflated sense of self without the ability to recognize that she's obviously having trouble with proprioception.
"Unhand me, oaf," she demanded, and he complied with a bout of laughter and the dramatics of putting his hands up in the air.
"Lady on plane said woman would be lucky to have these hands on them," he grinned, and just for some addictional and unwelcome comedic spice, he wriggles his fingers and moves his brows up and down.
She scoffed after having noted that her bag was on the way, "Was this lady an old blind bat?" Camila leaned forward and snatched the bag from the conveyor belt. It would seem that Elijah would also snag his own.
"She not bat or blind," he responded, and as if on queue, he waved to said older lady and gave her a playful wink.
Camila's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her skull and they both parted ways...
... Only to end up on the same bus. Just when he thought he might get away with sitting next to her, she threw one of her smaller bags down on the empty seat and glared at him. No. Not today. Camila didn't like strangers, and she certainly didn't want to have a conversation with someone that could barely speak English. He seemed a little slow, and she deserves a better conversational partner.
Instead, he sits behind her. She felt the weight of two brawny arms folding over the head of her chair, pulling it back as he pulled himself forward to invade her private space. "Do you believe fate?" He inquired, his voice husky and low - just for the effect of being a pest.
She swatted at him, "Did you not get taught manners in whatever hellhole birthed you?"
"What did you my mother call?" He laughed at that, and she felt the release of her chair's back as he finally decided to sit back and stop bugging the shit out of her. He heard her sigh and then mutter what was likely expletives fashioned of annoyance.
* * *
The pair finally arrived at their destination, and he offered to help with her bags. He only had one suitcase and she seemed to have carried her wardrobe and bathroom with her. Again, he's swatted away but she's her own woman - Miss. Independent, as the song title says. He relents with some hesitance, for as handsy and offhandedly joking as he was, he's also a gentleman.
"Wait - please, tell me you're not staying here," she stopped in her tracks and spun around to stare at him. Please, God, for the love of all things holy - maybe he just got off on the wrong stop.
He leaned a little to the right to look past her toward the resort, feigned a moment's thought, and looked her deadpan, "I'm not staying here," he casually parroted, shrugged and continued on his way anyhow. This just left Camila confused and paused for a brief few moments before she also moved inside.
Camila got comfortable in her room, and Elijah in his. Thankfully the pair would not be neighbors. She needed breakfast, even though it wasn't exactly that time for her. She's way jet-lagged and still coming down from the tequila. Sort of. She wandered out of her room, moved to an elevator, stepped inside, and lazily pushed a button. The 4th floor pinged to the 3rd.... to the 2nd, and then the doors open.
Elijah's dumb, handsome, grinning face popped up and she tried to press that button for closing the door quickly. He slipped inside and made himself casually comfortable, as if they were two good friends. "I begin think you like me, gadyuka."
Before a retort could leave her lips, the doors pinged open and she tried to click-clack in her heels swiftly past him, through the doors, and to the Southwing dining hall. The woman, as rude as ever, brushed past the car wreck of people while adding a few shoulder brushes and bumps along the way, and she seemed to be in a hurry to disappear.
Meanwhile, Elijah casually strolled behind her, his hands delved deep into his pockets. "Moya lyubov', Why you run?" He wasn't going to add to the pile-up happening, but he did offer up a smile or two at the very least.
Camila gave Elijah a very daring look whilst buttering a piece of toast with a knife that was not typically used for butter. Elijah didn't want to get stabbed right off the bat, so he made sure to grab a table across the room. Even he knows when to quit! For now, at least.
Erik had never been to Switzerland. Most of his international adventures took him to less...peaceful countries and defecting to Project: Overwatch never changed that. When he wasn't interrogating war criminals and spies, he was working with higher ups regarding how to approach the latest threat to (American) democracy. He often wondered how other countries viewed Project: Overwatch, whether they served as watchmen to the CIA or if they were simply another flavor of American imperialists. He wanted to believe that it was the former but the United States was hardly the free nation that it made itself out to be.
The neutrality of Switzerland was a nice change of pace. Despite the gathering only last a fortnight, he packed a two months' worth of clothes varying from pressed suits to knit sweaters to more casual options like neutral long sleeves. Hell, he even brought a bit of athletic wear on the off chance that he had time to explore the Alps. The only thing missing was his kindle, which he neglected on his countertop. It made the flight rather boring given that Overwatch booked the cheapest flight possible. That meant no Wi-Fi (not that they could provide for overseas flights), no inflight movies, and no legroom. It didn't bother him too much given that he'd flown on worse planes for longer, but that didn't make him any less exhausted when he landed.
Erik flexed his legs as he stepped onto Swiss soil, ready to leave behind the agent that he's sure his superiors sent to tail him. Truly living up to your name aren't you Hound? It didn't take much maneuvering for him to lose the other operative and watching her face as she was caught by customs gave him a wave of irritation rather than relief. When it came to their organization, Hound was loyal to a fault and made her hatred of him no secret. He had no doubt that when they were selecting another agent, she was the first to jump.
The bus ride gave him time to compose a strongly worded (but still professional) email regarding Hound's presence. Scry didn't take vacations and had long forgone field work so he was sure that if anyone could give him an explanation, it would be her. After the email, he decompressed in preparation for the socialization that was sure to come. Behind him he could hear the whispers of a man and woman, presumably both agents. She seem...annoyed to say the least and the man's jokes were not helping. He seemed to take pleasure in irritating her, although that didn't seem hard given her demeanor.
Upon arrival Erik glanced over at a pair from the bus who seemed to have continued their spat before she marched past him, a fierce click in her step. He approached the elevator after a quick check-in and found himself just a hair away from collision with not just two but six people. Two Asian people were apologizing to one another while the other two attempted to step past them. On the other end, the lovely woman from the bus bumped past the crowd with the Russian (?) man following behind. It appeared they were becoming well acquainted. Or maybe she's got a stalker.
Erik had to admit that he was getting far too invested in people that he hardly knew but they were also the first two agents he saw off of his flight.
"So uh, is this the only elevator in the building?" he chuckled, gesturing for everyone to move past him.
This trip was proving fun already.
The neutrality of Switzerland was a nice change of pace. Despite the gathering only last a fortnight, he packed a two months' worth of clothes varying from pressed suits to knit sweaters to more casual options like neutral long sleeves. Hell, he even brought a bit of athletic wear on the off chance that he had time to explore the Alps. The only thing missing was his kindle, which he neglected on his countertop. It made the flight rather boring given that Overwatch booked the cheapest flight possible. That meant no Wi-Fi (not that they could provide for overseas flights), no inflight movies, and no legroom. It didn't bother him too much given that he'd flown on worse planes for longer, but that didn't make him any less exhausted when he landed.
Erik flexed his legs as he stepped onto Swiss soil, ready to leave behind the agent that he's sure his superiors sent to tail him. Truly living up to your name aren't you Hound? It didn't take much maneuvering for him to lose the other operative and watching her face as she was caught by customs gave him a wave of irritation rather than relief. When it came to their organization, Hound was loyal to a fault and made her hatred of him no secret. He had no doubt that when they were selecting another agent, she was the first to jump.
The bus ride gave him time to compose a strongly worded (but still professional) email regarding Hound's presence. Scry didn't take vacations and had long forgone field work so he was sure that if anyone could give him an explanation, it would be her. After the email, he decompressed in preparation for the socialization that was sure to come. Behind him he could hear the whispers of a man and woman, presumably both agents. She seem...annoyed to say the least and the man's jokes were not helping. He seemed to take pleasure in irritating her, although that didn't seem hard given her demeanor.
Upon arrival Erik glanced over at a pair from the bus who seemed to have continued their spat before she marched past him, a fierce click in her step. He approached the elevator after a quick check-in and found himself just a hair away from collision with not just two but six people. Two Asian people were apologizing to one another while the other two attempted to step past them. On the other end, the lovely woman from the bus bumped past the crowd with the Russian (?) man following behind. It appeared they were becoming well acquainted. Or maybe she's got a stalker.
Erik had to admit that he was getting far too invested in people that he hardly knew but they were also the first two agents he saw off of his flight.
"So uh, is this the only elevator in the building?" he chuckled, gesturing for everyone to move past him.
This trip was proving fun already.
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Her thoughts of increased collaboration had of course instantly moved more towards those of shared intelligence between the various agencies, and not simply those of a more subtle nature. Her eyes had lit up when it was first broached as to who would represent them; with her drive for furthering their technological advantages first and foremost but her director had been explicit in that they were here to cultivate allies first and discuss terms later so ‘she’d better not scare them off’ were his exact words.
So now she stood by the side of the road, phone in hand as she leant against the wheeled bulk of her luggage waiting for the next arranged bus that would take her to the resort, wondering not for the first time whether she should have perhaps went with her first instinct and simply rented a motorbike or scooter for the duration of her stay. She had thought that a little more autonomy, rather than being beholden to their hosts and unforeseen delays would have been preferable, but further musing on the matter was cut short by the arrival of the shuttle. The journey up into the Alps was fairly uneventful with the bus feeling rather empty for the time of day, and allowed her to catch up a little on her reading in between the beautiful views.
Once they pulled up outside their destination, Angelica collected her possessions and thanked the driver as she disembarked. As she entered the foyer of Resort she carefully removed her sunglasses and dropped them into her bag, making her way over to the check-in desk where she chatted a little to the receptionist while collecting her lanyard and key card.
Slipping the lanyard over her head as she said her goodbyes for the time being she flashed the girl a warm smile and turned away. Clutching her key card in one hand and pulling her luggage in the other, she had made it a short distance before she stopped to watch events unfolding at the the lift up ahead in mild amusement over the literal pile-up of people.
Holding her hand over her face she did her best to stifle a laugh as her eyes darted around the foyer in search of the nearest stairwell to use instead, since the lift was clearly busy before they alighted on a door a little off to the side. The voice of another guest nearby caught her attention as she'd continued to move closer.
"So uh, is this the only elevator in the building?"
As she passed the rather bemused man standing near the collision she couldn’t help but mutter in dismay at the collision of the other guests "Hur otåliga de är, ja?" Giving her shoulders a sheepish shrug, she smiled apologetically for switching to her native tongue out of habit before quickly adding "Sorry about that, but it appears so. The stairs look clear to me though." She gave the other agent a friendly wave before continuing past him and through the door to the stairs and climbing up towards her floor.
After the several flights to the third floor she drew a lungful of air before wandering down the hallway; glancing from side to side as she muttered the door numbers under her breath; stopping suddenly outside door 311. Her key card beeped decisively and the door clicked as she pushed it open, swinging her luggage onto the bed she let out a momentary sigh. She opened the door into her en-suite and flicked on the light, turning the taps on so she could splash a bit of water on her face and grind some of the tiredness from her eyes.
Now that she was feeling a little more refreshed, if still fairly tired her mind returned to the rumbling of hunger she could almost hear; so switching the lights back off she decided she could unpack later and picked up her card, locked the door and then made her way downstairs. She pointedly avoided the lift, instead almost skipping down the stairs and bursting through the door back into the foyer. As her eyes alighted on the entrance to the restaurant of the resort she lightly brushed her fingers across her stomach as it gave a low grumble causing her to scoff at herself. Once inside she perused the various offerings, piling several onto a plate and saying a silent prayer as she poured herself a freshly made smoothie, sneaking a quick sip as she turned to look for somewhere to sit in the room.
"It Camila, correct? Mind if I join you? This smuti is to die for." She smiled and placed her smoothie and a plate of mixed food onto the table before sitting down opposite the other agent. She had noticed that the other woman’s gaze appeared to be narrowed in the direction of another table and her general mannerisms felt mildly aggressive as well. "Is something, or someone bothering you?" She followed where the other woman had been looking to see if she could spot the focus of her ire.
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