Ilarion was... confused.

He'd come down here to let off a little steam; hunt, exercise, distract himself - most likely a combination of all of the above. The Rurik had expected to find ample opportunity to do just that - these fields were plentiful, and had never let him down before. Nearing the watering hole, Ilarion would linger at the base of the green slopes, casting an eye out over his surroundings... Only to pause. What? He frowned, his attention following an odd spherical shape bobbing along the surface. "Huh." That certainly couldn't be mistaken for a crocodile. At first glance it could have perhaps been the rump of a drowned gazelle, but as he got closer and took in more details it very evidently was not. Especially as more came up to the surface - two, then three, then several dozen. "The fuck?" He blinked owlishly as one rolled up onto shore, sodden and lumpy - still intact, but barely. The Rurik grimaced, clearly unimpressed at the sight of it.

@Kazimir

ART BY NORTHFOXX — CODE

The bearish man looms and leers, following lazily in his husband's wake. It's not quite protectiveness that tugs him along, bur maybe something close. Something more than bland curiousity, surely. Ilarion was long past the stage of healing wounds and needing to worry after him like a mother hen, yet kazimir follows still.

And so, when the pumpkin washes ashore, he can't help but bark a laugh.

I knew you were a fine hunter, comes his boorish purr, handsome features alight in a wide simper. But this might be your best trophy yet. Even as he says it he steps forward, though not cloae enough to touch the pumpkin. Or sniff it. Instead he simply looks, his lopsided smirk fading to something a bit more... digusted.

What is it? Or, rather, what was it?

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

The familiar rumble of his dear husband had Ilarion immediately casting a look over his shoulder, greedily watching the movements of the other man as he came to join him. His teasing - harmless though it may be - would earn a grumble, velveteen muzzle wrinkling into a scowl. "Once again you mock me," the brute huffed, petulant, "what do I do to deserve this, hm?" The dark beast took a small side step, giving Kaz a little more room to come closer and investigate. "I don't know," he admitted in response to the question. He poked at it with an extended digit, feeling a little nauseous at the way the skin of the plant - bloated with moisture - wobbled. Disgusting. "I bet they are rancid. Rotten, with being in the water for so long." With a jilted nod Ilarion gestured out to the other pumpkins, bobbing up and down in the still pool like buoys.

ART BY NORTHFOXX — CODE

Kazimir needles less because it's fun ( though it is, indeed, fun ) and more just because he can. With their history it would be easy to fall into the melodrama of it all, and call him a sucker, but he treasures these easy moments of commrodrey. Others perhaps would look at their relationship and not see true, real, love-- but those people were blind. What they shared was textbook; living, breathing, definitions of love.

And this is how he chose to express it.

His nose wrinkles even more when ilarion points out the obvious. From a distance they'd only seemed strange and spherical; from up close, the Augur can see how they've been misshappened. Gourd skin is stretched tight over portions where it bubbles out, the gasses inside making it expand. Disgusting.... and strange.

Should we leave them in there? He asks with a tilt of his great head. Would it be worth fishing them out...? Or would they be best left to rot in their watery grave?

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

Kazimir does not respond, and Ilarion simply purses his lips together and pointedly sent a stare his husbands way before conceding and focusing back on the matter at hand. These pumpkins were weird and smelly, but the opportunity seemed too good to pass up - what if there was something exciting or worthwhile within? Sadly it was more likely to just be squishy, stinky fibrous material than anything else, but... Hell, Ilarion had wanted a distraction - this worked as well as anything else might. He tapped the washed-up pumpkin with a tail. Gut this one, Ilarion instructed, I will fish out another. And so he did; wading in until the water reached his stomach, then using his front paw to guide another bloated gourd out of the pool and onto dry land. Now that they each had one to contend with, he looked to Kazimir, before unsheathing his claws and using them to - as precariously as he could - let out some of the contents of his spoils....

Yummy.

ART BY NORTHFOXX — CODE

double, double toil and trouble;
fire burn, and cauldron bubble...

Nafasi watches from the bushes, never once letting herself be seen by those huddled around her perfectly-placed pumpkins. They really were a curious bunch, weren't they? But, unfortunately for them, the sprite was feeling extra mischievous today, and had a trick up her sleeve! And so, with a small grin, the being tilted her maw down towards the earth, eyes glowing, before she gave a pointed flicker of her tail and brought her vision to life in the process.

Uh oh...

A disturbing green fog begins to swirl and escape out of the top of the pumpkin, and with it comes a terrible (and I mean terrible) odour. In fact, the smell is so bad that your eyes immediately begin to water and your stomach starts doing backflips. It's completely foul -- and to make matters worse, seconds later the pumpkin EXPLODES, covering you in a mix of pulp, seeds, and a smell that rivals the worst of any skunk spray.