When Luned was changed into her yellow bikini she used the momentum from dashing down the stairs to propel her out onto the deck, grab the rope from where it was hitched to the tree, run several feet up the tree like a practiced ninja, and jump, flying out over the surface of the water. She dropped from the swing and meant to make a graceful dive but it had been a while, so instead she hit the water flat and face-first. Her belly made a sharp crack on the water's surface and waves erupted around her. She floundered a bit in the water after she landed, holding her stomach. "Owww."
The skin on her torso was bright pink from the impact and she'd probably be sore for the rest of the night. d'oh.
If one could limp while swimming Luned certainly did it, probably just for attention, half-assing her way back toward the camp where Olive and Max were. "Nice gear,"
she grinned to her wild-haired southern friend, remembering the days when she, Dickon and Jonas spent their days with their faces in the murky depths, water-logged bottoms floating on the surface like beacons as they looked for sunken treasure. There was no treasure, though. Just the occasional beer bottle, discarded tire, or dead fish that got trapped under the muck. Now those were always fun to find.
"So, how's the water?"
She asked both Max and Olive. "Just uh, don't go over by the rocks, that's where the leeches hang out. And oh, don't go too far over there either, it's all rotten leaves on the bottom which feel really gross on your feet and the snapping turtles like to hide in there."
Dickon wasn't interested in being spectator to the majesty of Luned's belly flops, so instead he used his excellent boy scout/mountain man techniques to help Rowan get a fire lit. He revived the logs and within a few minutes they had a fairly steady flame going, crackling to life with the help of some balled up newspaper. He tended it patiently with the poker as he ignored Jonas, who was hollering at him from the deck in his skivvies.
Then he saw Rowan had broken out the drinks, and well, he wasn't going to argue with that. He looked in the pantry and helped himself to something, figuring if it belonged to any certain person they owed him for the pizza anyway, and mixed himself a quick toddy of rum and Moxie. He mixed a second when he noticed Nate was looking a bit like an outsider, too.
he handed the guy the glass with a ratty old beer koozi on it. Pure class. He sipped his and savored it like it was mead of the gods. "Do you know how to paddle a canoe? Screw it, it ain't hard. C'mon."
If Nate was up to it, Dickon led him down to the dock next to where the others were splashing around. "Get in. Gotta check somethin'."
Apparently Nate had been unknowingly enlisted to help him with some work. What fun! Dickon lowered himself into the canoe and brushed a few cobwebs off the oars, then shooed a couple very ugly, palm-sized mating dragonflies off Nate's seat. "How rude."
When Nate was ready, he'd push them off so they were floating out onto the lake.