GLORY AND GORE | pumpkins

[gael]

♛

The autumn season felt strangely disruptive in a lush environment.  While the jungle seemed little altered, hazel eyes caught little signs.  A number of neighboring treehouses sported new decorations, ranges of simple to elaborate.  An old memory lingered in his mind's eye, of trees thicker and higher, lit up like stars in the night.  An entire kingdom among the canopy.

Ardis transformed during autumn -- nothing stood untouched by the festivities.  The time before winter's cold brought harvest and entertainment.  Accustomed to the change, Gael almost forgot to register the signs spreading across the Pitt as the subtle announcement of All Hallow's Eve.

The moment he did someone may have punched him square in the gut.  The vulpine faltered where he stood, conducting his weekly survey of his child's garden.  He found the likelihood of Aine recalling her first Halloween slim.  A worthy question for a later time.

The faerie felt he should encourage some holiday festivities from their end.  This way the child experienced the proper traditions.  While Gael found the overall concept of Halloween on the foolish side of things, he acknowledged the appeal of such an entertaining holiday, embracing the supernatural.  In that spirit, the Irishman sought out his child, returning her to an open patch of grass close to her garden.

In the dirt he had planted a staple of Halloween.  Great orange pumpkins to arise.  Indeed, with steady encouragement Gael observed his daughter cause many of the plants to sprout forth from the ground, flourishing with unnatural pace.  Once he dictated they'd done enough and Aine to be worn-out, the fae set to toppling the pumpkins on their sides and rolling them through the jungle.

He could hear his daughter giggling behind him through the repeated journeys, until he'd amassed a number of pumpkins in the central marketplace.  "Here we are," he murmured, taking a seat beside the pseudo-patch, regarding Aine affectionately. "Good job, Lottie.  Why don't you pick one for the two of us? I'll show you how to carve it."

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / pittian / lamby

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[aine.]

[align=center]— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Splashes of orange and gold.  Crisp flavors in the air.  The petite vixen reigned an autumn child, enthused by the shift in seasons, albeit muted by the jungle.  Her own, vibrant hazel hues noticed decorations and caught strange smells on the breeze.  Sweet.

Her father's instructions to grow something specific caught her off-guard.  A request unasked of her before.  Yet he had prepared.  Seeds already in the ground.  Dark paws shifting uneasily on the grass, she did as he requested.  A difficult task.  Most of the plants growing in her garden had been dug out by the roots and carried to their new home.  Not grown by her abilities.

Spurred on by her father, stubborn to succeed, the child grew perhaps one too many of the pumpkins to maturity.  Shaky paws and blurry eyes.  Soon she was simply tumbling after her father and his efforts to move the great, round plants, wondering what exactly he had planned.

When their entire yield sat within the marketplace, Aine rocked on her paws, watching Gael.  "Carve?" She analyzed the pumpkins she brought to life, brows creased in confusion.  Carve.  Cut into?  Sounded kind of mean to the plants.  Her ears flicked back.

But he had asked her to choose one.  Frowning, the vixen leaned towards one of the smaller, round pumpkins.  An orange as vibrant as her fur.  "I like this one, da. … Do we 'ave to cut into it?"

"Are we givin' the others to everyone else?" She inquired, voice brightening.  Her eyes gleamed curiously.  That would explain moving them all to the marketplace.  Well.  That was nice.  But she still didn't understand what her father meant by carve.

— I'll come back when you call me —

[redvox.]

[gael]

♛

Only a gentle quirk of his brows announced the vulpine's curiosity, running through the possibilities Aine may not be familiar with the tradition since she was so young.  Halloween traditions hardly prevailed in conversations prior to the season.  Gael supposed he had not considered his daughter's affinity for plants before informing her of their next step.  An unfortunate strategic oversight.

His head tilted lightly, a kind smile playing on his lips.  "During Halloween, pumpkins are often carved... It's an old tradition, Lottie.  By carving a face and setting a candle inside a hollowed out pumpkin, we ward off evil spirits." An old, somewhat odd practice, but Gael considered the thought behind it.  The 'spirits' being warded off must not have liked the light, nor faces.  "... It's art, Lottie.  With a purpose.  'an we can make any sort of face you like, okay?"

His thoughts paused, taking a break as another voice infiltrated the air.  A steadily more familiar face known as Redvox. "Just givin' away actually," the faerie offered simply, shrugging his shoulders.  A shop presented interesting possibilities, yet reluctance to grow too comfortable in one place held him back. "Aine 'ere helped grow 'em; just in time if you like decorating for Halloween."

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / pittian / lamby

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[SÉAMUS]

— 'cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
The Scotsman had to close the book he'd been reading when he spotted two foxes rolling pumpkins into the marketplace.  The everyday noise faded out as he directed his focus on the two Fae.  Flicking his ears, the swift fox rose to his paws, glancing once at his book before trotted forwards.  Silently, he caught up to the conversation, pondering over the idea of decorating his 'home' here in the Pitt.

Honestly speaking, 'Embry' desired to be home, teaching his own daughter about Halloween traditions.  Instead he regarded Gael passively as he taught the lessons onto the young Aine.  "I'd say it's a fairly important tradition too," he piped up lightly.

As a youth, he recalled the air of excitement as his brothers attempted to pick the perfect pumpkin, only to inevitably argue or even scuffle over the matter.  Raziel won more often than not, refusing to be drawn into any violence and gaining their parents' favor.

"If yer just givin' them away I might take one then," he decided, shoulders shrugging.  "Wanna help me pick, lass? Looks like you've got a good eye."
[align=right]hardly anything left for you to see — EMBRY

[redvox.]

[aine.]

[align=center]— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Shifting paws and perked ears.  Aine blinked owlishly up at her father, practically inhaling the short history lesson.  Strange.  Had he failed to specify the spirits as being 'evil' she may have protested; warding off spirits sounded rude after all, especially if they hadn't done anything.  Spirits belonged just as much as everyone else, didn't they?  Even so, the vixen bet maybe the evil ones just needed a simple talking to.  They probably weren't too bad.

Quickly, her head turned on a swivel, eyes luminous as they locked on Embry.  The other fox was familiar to her, and having not seen him in some time she quite excitedly leapt to her paws.  Soon she had found another pumpkin, much larger than her first, but slightly squished in shape.  "How 'bout this one Mr. Embry?" She could almost stand on top of it, leaning her soot colored paws into the great orange fruit with a hopeful grin.  Eager to please.

As she stood there she caught Redvox speaking, tilting her head towards his voice as she realized he was addressing her and not her father.  Supporting her father's point it was art.  Well.  She liked art.  Mostly due to her father's fondness of the practice.  Growing up, she had almost always woken up to the smell of wet paint.

Aine wondered.  Maybe they could just put googly eyes on the front.  No cutting.  It'd look silly too!  "Can it be a smiling face, da? Oh! We could give him a hat too, li' I gave my scarecrow."

— I'll come back when you call me —

[beatae]

i'm the treasure

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code by spacexual

holidays were typically something the dog watched from afar. just as his duties had called before kydobi's claim on the lad, august's nose was sent out to ensure everything was in tiptop shape. food was not expired or old. anything stale was thrown their way and sometimes, if he was paired with someone sympathetic enough, would be thrown a stray piece of good food. though lately he had been able to forget about all of those things. he got to eat food without even asking or sneaking it around. he didn't have to work for anything anymore...

coming up on the pumpkins, he recognized them from last year. he didn't really have much involvement in autumn with pumpkins, as anyone could tell when they were ready to be disposed of. nothing hid their rotting whatsoever.

he lifted a small white paw onto one about twice his size, pressing down onto it to make sure it was nice and strong. okay... it was alright. nothing gross on it save for a few lumps.

he heard vox say something about carving, his ears folding back as he looked at his pumpkin once more. okay. maybe his ego got a bit too big here...

i'm the prize