Falienn, of course, was happily avoiding work. There was much to do with the clutches hardening daily, but despite having been brought back into the fold of candidates, he wasn't making great strides in climbing to the top of the pile in terms of respectability. Thankfully with so very many eggs on the sands there'd been a number of searches too, meaning there were almost more candidates around than could be put to work. It wasn't hard to get out of doing anything too trying or too time consuming.
It did leave him with more time to brood and wander about the Weyr, but that was fine. He'd been doing that for months anyway, and he'd gotten very good at that bit of activity. The lake was still a popular destination even after the heat of summer had broken, swiftly dropping the Weyr towards the chill of autumn. The skies had been more cloudy of late but who wanted to admit that they'd lost to the creeping grasp of the ice and snow coming to claim the mountain home? No, he could pretend to it being summer for just a bit longer.
Coming up behind someone—another candidate? She seemed familiar, if only because of her distinctive look, but he'd not bothered to learn her name. There were just
too many to know them all any more. He flipped smooth rock in his palm, took aim, and let fly. It whizzed past the woman (well wide enough to be no danger) to skip once, twice, and fumbled through a third hop to splop! into the lake. "Be a bit weird to have a salt lake up here. A fresh one's at least good for drinking and all that. Bathing, whatnot."
