still swimming [open]

[kite]

The day was warm, almost unseasonably so. Malta had spent the morning in the cool stone of the Weyr, reviewing hatchling care. She didn't really expect to Impress, but could no longer quite deny to herself that she wanted to. Whether she left the Sands with a lifemate or no, this was a topic she'd do well to be read-up on; as a dragonhealer, she would doubtless be asked to patch up the little -or large- injuries that Hatching always brought. Shale had already been put to use as a tiny model to practice various methods of bandaging, and she'd put a variety of neat stitches into a big scrap of wherhide. All in all, she considered herself quite prepared for the Hatching...and had even done some surreptitious studying of riding straps. Just in case.

Now, though, she itched for a more active past-time, feeling unusually pleased with herself and her level of preparation. Perhaps it was merely the warm, sunny day, but she was very in the mood for some time outside. Leaving her room in the Barracks, she returned within minutes to change into a breast-binding and small-clothes suitable for swimming. Southern born and bred, she wanted nothing more than to dive into cool water beneath a hot sun. Layering shorts and a plain tunic over her bathing gear, she set off, joined soon after by an eager Shale.

Others had the same idea she'd had, it seemed, and the Lake was practically bustling. Dragons cut through the water where it was deepest, occasionally trumpeting or crooning a vocal accompaniment to their mental conversations. Several were being diligently washed by their Riders, but more seemed to be there for fun. She watched a man dive from his big Brown's back into the water, and heard faint laughter from a pair of women sitting astride their floating Greens. A smile she was unaware of came to her face; it was hard not to be caught up in the generally happy atmosphere of the day. A part of her hungered to be splashing about with a lifemate here, one day, and Shale crooned near her ear. Amused at this reminder that she already had one, she stroked him as she walked, until he lifted neatly off from her shoulder to join a glittering fair of firelizards. Sunlight flashed off his well-oiled hide, bringing out the faint opalescent shimmer that set him apart from other Ebonies; her biased opinion was that he was easily the handsomest of his color, his flight the most precise. A Green seemed to agree with her assessment, breaking off from the fair in general to greet him as he approached.

Malta shed her clothing, her lean frame still somewhat browned by the summer's sun, though she'd likely lose some of that color in the months to come. Even though winters were dramatically gentler down here, she wasn't anticipating cooler weather; like a feline, she had a great appreciation for warmth. Again, her mind strayed to the upcoming Hatching -would she have a dragon partner to share the winter with?- but she dragged it stubbornly back. No sense in worrying about that just yet. In fact, no sense worrying until she was Standing at her last Clutch with most of the Eggs already Hatched; until then, she had Turns of eligibility left, and plenty of Clutches to look forward to if this one didn't hold her lifemate.

Malta waded into the water, perhaps a shade cooler than she'd like, but certainly bearable. Shale returned with a small fish to be made much over, and she obliged, telling him affectionately what a magnificent hunter he was while he crunched the minnow down.

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