Delmaria sat sullenly at the top of the beach, waiting for her skin to dry out enough again to be irritated. She was certain the sensation would crop up at any moment and ruin her day; it had a habit of doing that. Just when her wings would finally dry out enough for her to test them against the air, her skin would insist that she go back into the water. The sea made her wings useless, and it sometimes even wounded them, inflicting tiny tears that stung with salt every time an opposing current flicked against the direction in which she was swimming. If she happened to chance upon a jellyfish - she had, once before, when she was a filly - Del got out of the water as fast as she could. She knew from experience that where there was one, there were many, and their phantom stingers had gotten her before. They trailed far behind the body of the jellyfish, far enough that Del forgot they existed, and then they would wrap around the delicate membranes of her wings or her fins. Both were extremely sensitive, and neither kind of encounter was a welcome one.
So there she sat, between sand and sawgrass, waiting for something to happen. Her days were uneventful now that her parents were busy with the boys, her pair of young brothers - the only interesting thing that ever seemed to happen was the days that she babysat or visited with the seathi in the reefs not to far away. Del had never been a very strong swimmer and couldn't stay for very long, but the tiny seahorses were about as close to friends as she could get. Or, well, as close to unrelated friends as she could get. Her family was enormous, had always been enormous, and was only growing; with the addition of Liam and Sora and news of new children from the lines of the extended family what seemed like every other day, it was a wonder that anyone wasn't related to her family.
Swishing her tail across the sand behind her (she had made sure to lay her tail where there was only smooth sand, no sawgrass), Del wondered what she would do today, aside from waiting for her skin to dry out so she could take another dip in the sea. The ocean was where she felt most at home; the saltwater soothed her skin and cleaned her cuts, though the membrane of her wings was a different story. Unless she folded them tight against her back, Del ended up with wingfuls of pain from the salinity. Her wings were just not meant to bear water.
But that was depressing, she told herself, rising and letting her tail drape on the sand behind her. Where was her joy? The sun was bright and warm, unlike the clouds that had been threatening rain for days and then suddenly disappeared. The sky was clear, the sea gentled for once. Behind her, the forest rose tall and ominous. Might as well jump in now, she thought, tired of waiting for her skin to dry out. Why wait for pain when she could quench the fire ahead of time? With a grin, Del rolled on the pebbles down the beach, working to gain enough control over her wings to fold them against her back. How had she not thought of this before? Before, she thought of "taking a bath," as she called it, with disdain, but if a quick in-and-out-shower was enough to keep her from drying out for a while, why not take the opportunity to test the idea out?
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