Water lapped at the shores of the Ruby Sea, washing rocks and shells against dark sand to litter the edge with natural debris. It was peaceful. Mixed eyes rested half lidded as she stared at the expanse of blue that seemed to go on forever, drinking in the tranquility of the moment. Jayley could scarce believe that soon this place was going to live up to its name; that the sands were to be stained with the blood of a long brewing feud. Excitement bubbled under her skin, held down only by comfortable trepidation.
A breeze rolled off of the sea, rustling short onyx strands as Jayley straightened her posture. That was enough of a break. She reached for a shovel, dislodging it from the sands to get back to digging. Her carefully laid out plans had been shattered when R’Khena’s memory was wiped for the second time, and so they stole her away here. Spicer would come soon to try and retrieve her, and while the others seemed content to deal with him as he came, Jayley wasn’t convinced that playing the situation smart was impossible. Plans fall apart all the time, after all. It was how one adapted to make it work that made a strategist so powerful.
With a dull clink the shovel’s set aside as she dropped to a knee in front of the hole. Rough hands reached for a canvas bag that sat not too far, opening it up and rummaging to carefully grab a dull looking pot no bigger than the size of her palm. She had planned for these explosives to be set in buildings, but they’d still do well enough here. She set the pot into the hole cautiously, checking the wiring around it. A small square of cloth gets laid over it, ensuring the sand wouldn’t jam any of the connections before she began to scoop the pile of dug sand back over top of the hole with her hands. She filled it in, trying to make it look as natural as possible while leaving a bit of displaced sand about a fulm in front of it. It was a trick, after all. If they thought it to be closer than it is, then stepping over would land their foot right atop of the trap.
Jayley lifts to her feet with a small huff, swiping her bare forearm across her forehead to wipe away sweat. She’d not put her face paints on yet today. There was no point if it was all going to be sweat away before the battle. “Rights.” She mumbled to herself, turning to look out over the beach, “Tha’s the lasts ones.”
Scarred lips drew a thin line under her mask, squinting over the area. She couldn’t help but feel she was at a disadvantage here. Sand wasn’t her preferred battleground. A huff escaped her as she leaned down to scoop up the bag and shovel, laying the handle of the tool overtop of her shoulder while she lumbered back towards the wooden shacks.
Near the deck she dropped the shovel and bag, exchanging it for a large metal club that looked as though it could smash through any armor. She hefted it with a grunt and made her way across towards one of the larger rocks that protruded from the beach. With a swish of sand she sunk the mace into the dirt beside the stone, laying it horizontal. She dug through the sand with her hands, making a long trench deep enough to sink the massive weapon into before pushing the sand over it. It was only a small layer, but it’d be enough to conceal the weapon from sight.
Back to the decks she went, scooping up the last weapon. An odd looking revolver that looked magitech in nature. She lumbered towards one of the few trees nearby, pulling one of her belts from her satchel. With a hop she grabbed onto one of the gnarled branches, scaling the tree with practiced form until she was halfway up. Her eye flicked between the sea and her position, finding just the right amount of needles to tuck the revolver behind. She wrapped the belt that was similar in colour to the bark around the branch, using it to pinch the weapon there and strap it in.
Feet sunk into the sand after jumping down, wiping her hands together while scanning the beach. Good. Everything looked normal. Natural even. She hoped it’d be enough, but as of right now there was just no telling. Her nose wrinkled at all the unknown variables. They had no idea what Spicer had in his arsenal, but Jayley was certain it was nothing good. She let out a rumbled sigh, exhaustion creaking in her bones as she turned back towards the deck. Bags and shovels go snatched up as she makes her way towards the shack.
The others may have promised R’Khena that killing would be a last resort, but she certainly didn’t. Anyone that worked under this man’s banner had it coming, she thought. There was no room for mercy here. Anyone who came to this beach in search of R’Khena wouldn’t be leaving alive.
She needed to sharpen her blades.
Because I love you and you're awesome and I'm bored, here: Lance from Voltron!