A Strategic Spot near the Shore; Saturday Afternoon [10/29].

Amaya's day had started exactly as it usually did and exactly as she preferred it: bright and early and incredibly busy. Thankfully, the work of figuring out which spot along the shore was likely to give the most pumpkin chuckin' for their buck as well as one that seemed likely as a good defensive spot against, say, a potential kraken attack some day, was easy. And the work of hauling a good deal of wood, tools, other supplies, pumpkins (both organic and concrete), and a variety of different weights and counterweights to that spot was much more demanding, but those were the kinds of demands Amaya rather enjoyed. Honestly, hauling materials across an island with far too many steps probably ranked right up there with her top five ways to spend a Saturday morning.

But, eventually, all the materials were there, and then it was just a matter of her partner-in-trebucheting to arrive so that they could get to work and get to the good stuff. She took a moment to lick a finger and lift it in the air (after removing her glove, of course) to test the wind, nodded approvingly, and maybe was just going to get started on at least the base of the thing, because she really was terrible at waiting when there were things to be doing and potential lingering nerves to ignore.

Even if she was, occasionally, distracted by what she thought was someone talking to her, in little more than a creepy whisper on the breeze, but, whenever she turned her head, she found there was no one there.

Which was probably best for them, really. She was loaded for bear on things to be thrown at anyone trying any sort of funny business, after all.

[[ mostly for the trebuchet date (trebu-date?), but feel free to poke at the blacksmith before she arrives! ]]