DAY 3 - Morning

[islandiastaff]

GOOD MORNING, ISLANDIA! It's time to hit the road!

[The usual. As soon as you're out of the lodge, enjoy the explosions.]

Today's gonna be a simple one - just a simple jungle trek, same as the first day! Can't use all our fun tricks right off the bat, now, can we?

But before we get going, let's talk about spy activity! That's right, they're as busy as ever, and their target is... YOU!

[As M.C points at her, Ema Skye is launched off into the Loser's Lounge. There she go!]

So long, Ema! Five spies to go, and now your group is short one Detective!

Happy hiking, folks!

Comments

d

[synchrownization]

[Hans has decided to take a break as well, and is searching for a seat close by when he hears someone speaking...a poem? He stops, interested, and listens, trying to pretend to keep finding a good place to sit.

...until he settles for a log beside Wirt's stump. He's smiling by then. Clearly he liked the poem.]

Did you write that? It's beautiful.

C

[synchrownization]

[Hans is in the patch of trees, gathering up as much fruit as he can by standing on large rocks to reach them, or jumping, or even gingerly climbing to the lower branches. Yeah, he bought some rations off the vending machine, but you can never be too careful. Those are some weird fruits, but hey, they should find out if they're edible.

Help him? Ask for one? No, seriously, he'll most likely give you one out of the goodness of his heart.]

[poetryandclarinet]

[While Hans (seemingly) appears out of nowhere to compliment Wirt's poem, he flinches and falls off his stump, though only momentarily. He'll hastilly climb back onto the stump and clear his throat, obviously nervous.]

N-no I-I-I-- [Wait Wirt, it was a compliment. Calm down son.]

I- no, bu- I... yes. Y-yes, I did. Th- thank you.

[synchrownization]

You're welcome. [He smiles, withdrawing the hand that he had extended to help Wirt up when he sees Wirt manage to climb back onto the stump.] Do you write poetry often?

[collateraltsunage]

[Meryl's just observing for now, idly hoping he doesn't hurt himself]

What are those?

[poetryandclarinet]

I-I.. yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do. [He smiles a little, glad that somebody actually likes poetry around here.]

[synchrownization]

That's great. [He sounds genuinely awed.] Has this game inspired you? [A laugh. A rhyme about their predicament would be fun.]

[synchrownization]

[He slowly climbs down, brushing off his clothes and adding another breadfruit to two others at the foot of the tree.]

Actually...I have no idea. [WELP.] But if they're edible, we should gather them up.

[collateraltsunage]

I suppose. Is there a chance they could be poisonous?

[She watches him, really having no clue]

[collateraltsunage]

[WHAT IS THIS DRAMATIC POINTING]

[Meryl has already been following the clues, though her patience is starting to wear out from the humidity and... everything]

...Alright. What is it?

D ALSO in case that weren't... clear...

[s2g]

[ Wolfwood isn't poetic. not much of Gunsmoke is. his is a tenuous grip on grammar and a tendency to dip towards the planet's typical twang more often than not. but he has verses for days; never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. the sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat—even without the good book in hand, if you asked, you would receive.

and this sounds like a verse. but it isn't. he'd know. ]

Where'd you learn that one from?

[s2g]

[ and suddenly Robin has a towering black shadow with horrible trashy man-cleavage ]

Oi. You alright?

[synchrownization]

Might be. We need someone who knows their fruits.

[fullonbraced]

No, it's, like, way more challenging! My legs are screaming at me!

[...]

It'd be a little easier if Ema were here, I guess...

[fullonbraced]

[Wow, that man-cleavage.

Ahem. Robin stuttered for a moment, finding herself.]

Yeah! I'm all good, man! Never better...!

[Yeah, she's not looking too happy though.]

[s2g]

[ like he can blame the kid. ]

That Ema girl. She was a friend of yours.

[fullonbraced]

We didn't know each other a lot, since I just met her here, but she's still a friend, man!

[Robin slumps.]

And she was eliminated, probs because of me!

[poetryandclarinet]

I-it has a little. When you're a poet, almost anything can inspire you, to- to be honest.

heh no worries!

[poetryandclarinet]

O-oh! [He sounds a little surprised at Wolfwood's voice, and he clears his throat a little before speaking.]

I- I didn't really.. learn it. I wrote it but- but i-it's not that good, anyway. You'd hear better poetry from a professional.

[livefreely]

There's a rhyming message here. . . Something about a tree being free?

[She might be misreading.]

[s2g]

[ she'd get along with Spikey. they both make friends too easily.

gently, as far as Wolfwood standards go, ] Well, I ain't about to tell ya how to feel about it. But you can accept what happened and keep walking forward, or you can choose to suffer.

[s2g]

[ there are professional poets? ]

Sounded pretty professional to me.

[collateraltsunage]

I've never seen anything like this before. [She comes from a desert planet!] Perhaps we should hold onto them for now and search for other fruits.

[collateraltsunage]

...Perhaps I should take a look at it.

[poetryandclarinet]

N-no, no no no, I-I'm just, you know, a novice. I-I don't really have the qualifications, o-or the experience, to be a professional yet. [He appreciates Wolfwood's flattery though!]