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Dork of The Jungle The jungle is loud. Not in the way cities are. Not engines, not voices, not machinery-but alive. Leaves whisper overhead in layers upon layers of green. Insects hums. Birds calls to one another unseen. The air thick, snd warm, carrying the scent of damp earth and sun warmed bark surrounding the lush greenery. A vine swings wildly through the canopy. Attached to it? Tarma Roving. Barely visible through the trees, he whoops with reckless joy as he arcs from one tree to the next like he was born there. Raymond, the android assisting the quartet, twitches before glancing up at Tarma’s figure above. He makes a face like he bit into a lemon, and stops Fio in her tracks. She whirls around, and eyebrows raised. Oh no. “Uh guys-?” "Oh for Pete sakes!" Marco’s voice comes from below. His voice heavy with secondhand embarrassment. “Well he’s having fun.” Eri places her hands on her hips: watching the Captain swing from the trees. The vine creaks. Tarma didn’t notice He’s too busy doing an enthusiastic, completely Tarzan yell that echoes through the jungle like a war cry. The vine snaps. Then a sharp crack of fibers giving away. “Uh-AHHHHHHHHHH!“ Tarma crashes with a tree trunk chest-first before dropping into a pile of leaves. Nearby Raymond bursts into laughter: leaning against a tree as Marco runs ahead to check on Tarma. “Hah! Dumbass of the jungle!" "...Raymond.” Fio chides. Raymond only laughs harder. “What? He looked like a flying Q-tip!” Across the clearing, Eri walks over, brushing leaves aside with her boots. She watches as Marco props the unconscious Tarma up against the tree. Despite everything, he looks deeply at peace with his life choices. Eri kneels right beside him, brushes a leaf from his face, before pressing her lips to his cheek. “You dork~” Tarma groans faintly Above them, the jungle continues on as if nothing has happened.

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