Facing the Issues

The misty Autumn air circled two Isomaras, one tall with grand wings while the other just a tiny puff of fluff. A fog had fallen upon them, a few bits of sunlight peeking through the horizon as the morning drifted in. The trees shuddered above them, shaking weakly at the two large, orange gourds held firmly in the taller one's arms. The dry leaves crunched beneath their paws as they walked, a few nestled in the smaller one's fur. 

"Momma, hurry up! I want to make faces!" The smaller one demanded, their tiny, white wings fluttered in anticipation against their fierce yet muted crimson fur, tail thrashing with an attitude. The other one simple smiled at them, peering down through his unruly curly hair. He lead the two of them to a section below a mostly bare tree, kneeling down to brush away any leaves and debris for a clean spot for them to sit. 

"Come on now, Charity. I know you can be patient," the other gently chided, placing the pair of pumpkins between them. Charity hurried up, scuttling in a hurry to sit beside their 'mother'. They pressed in close, molding themselves against the taller one's frame for warmth and comfort. A large hand reached down, smoothing out their fur and plucking a few stray leaves from it. 

"Mommaaa," they whined further, shrinking away from the preening paw and reaching out themselves to bap the pumpkins. When the hand proceeded to follow them for more cleaning, they let out a longer whine of disapproval. "Paprikaaa!"

Paprika let out a hearty laugh, pulling his hand back to himself to appease the younger one. 

"Alright, alright, we can get to making faces now!" He flipped both the pumpkins upside down, before looking and rustling around to look for something useful. He spotted a few splintered off squares of bark on the ground beside him. He furrowed his brow in confusion, staring at the tree to examine the long scarring where the wood once was. 

Shrugging it off, he held the wood firmly in his hand before spearing the bottom of the pumpkin. A sickening <i>fwop</i> was heard as the vegetable gave way to the force, and Charity let out a shrill of delight. The pumpkin opened up, revealing all the insides. 

"Mine now! I wanna do it!" They cheered, paws instantly everywhere on the bark. Paprika removed it, tensing as the wood left the pumpkin and let the gaping hole sink inside. The isoling was quick to snatch the tool, quickly sinking it into their own pumpkin. Their tail thrashed in delight and wonder as the pumpkin splattered a bit on the grass below them from the force. Removing the bark and setting it aside, they began to carve the hole in the bottom bigger like Paprika was doing. 

"I did it!" They cried, turning to face Paprika for approval. He gave them a large grin before reaching inside to churn out the seed and guts of the pumpkin. Charity watched carefully, before following the example and scooping large handfuls from their own. Together, they worked in harmony, clearing out the gourds with dedication, despite both of their lack of experience in the matter. 

Once hollow, or as hollow as the two could get them, Paprika helped turn both the pumpkins over. He grimaced at the sticky feel of the stringy seeds on his hands, attaching to his webbing and palm. Charity didn't seem to mind, though they were attempting to be sly by wiping it on the bottom of their fluff. After staring at them for a minute, the isoling turned to the anthro isomara. 

"Now faces?" They questioned, ears alert for an answer. 

"Now faces!" Paprika agreed, followed by them both cheering. Charity springs up, eager to find additions to their soon-to-be masterpiece, Paprika following suit with just as much enthusiasm. After dashing in opposite directions into the clearing mist, they came back to meet each other as the sun shone brightly on their fur, warming them in its rays. Despite the sun only just gazing at them, the crisp air had shifted to a comforting blanket, the temperature just warm enough to let them know they wouldn't have to hurry their process. The cold wouldn't nip their ears today. 

Upon their return, Paprika let out a bark of laughter, staring at the chaos that was Charity. Their already messy hair was spiked every way, some partially matted, and some parted to where you could see the fur underneath their white fluff. Their horns were strung up in spider webs while leaves, sticks, and honey caked their fur. The Isomara couldn't help but roar with laughter at the thought of what Charity had gotten themselves into. He promptly screeched as a bee flew from their fur. 

After finally diverting its attention away from them to a flower, they huddled back around their gutted pumpkins. They worked mostly in silence, the wind weaving through their hair and feathers, diligent hands crafting the pumpkins into what they desired. 

Charity struck the pumpkin with the bark, carving two slit, horizontal lines. They gathered the honey and slathered it on the top of the gourd, shoving it into the holes they just made and watching it drip out and harden to shine and crystallize in the air around them. They hurried, grabbing and smacking leaves along the top, layering them to just barely above the holes, before slapping just a bit more honey to assure all the dead foliage would stay. They grabbed their bark again, piercing the vegetable in a simple 'v' shape, making a happy yet sad mouth. They took the two spiral seashells from their fluff and perch them on the leaves, before sitting back to admire their work. 

While Charity was smothering their pumpkin in honey, Paprika had taken his sharp bark and jabbed it in, curving a lazy smile first, before adding a pair of alight eyes right above it. He reached beside him, retrieving a clam and wedged a stick inside. From there, he pried it open, a bit sad to see the odd tissue of the organism that lived inside. Despite that, he slurped up his meal and used the shell halves to scrape the pumpkin at the top, before jamming them in to find their place perched atop the gourd. He speared two thick sticks between them, before adding his own small spiral seashells right above the eyes. 

Paprika leaned away, straightening his back after hunching over for so long. He listened to it crack, his wings stretching far above his head. He peered down at his creation, suddenly extremely giddy, and quickly turned the pumpkin to show the child. The reaction was immediate, Charity flinched back at the quick action, before squinting at the pumpkin. Despite being caught off guard, they held in their growl of disapproval. 

"It's Salt. You made Salt," there was no mirth in the statement, just a flatline that kept them from swerving their voice into distaste. Instead, they shifted the conversation to their own creation, turning their pumpkin to face the Salt pumpkin. Paprika let out a comical gasp, his smile somehow growing despite already stretching from cheek to cheek. 

"You made Faith!" He crowed, wings fluffing up. Charity puffed their chest out proudly, before realizing a grave error. A shrill noise of frustration left their maw before pointing rudely to Paprika's pumpkin. 

"No fair!" They shrieked, slamming their paw on the ground. Dirt smeared on their palm and scattered away as if trying to run. Paprika's smile was swept off his face, confusion washing over. 

"I'm sorry? What's not fair, Charity?" He questioned, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort the distressed child. He stretched his arms out but was wary of the flailing limbs hurting either of them or the pumpkins.

"Yours has ears! Mine doesn't! Faith deserves ears!" Charity threw their arms up, tail lashing behind them. Leaves were knocked aside, grass hissing as they were smacked, their tiny paws pounded the ground in rage. Their distress rang through the air, causing Paprika's ears to fold down, barely muting the shriek. "Faith has pointy ears! Faith has my ears! Not clam ears!" They further demanded, rearing up onto their hind legs to glare into Paprika's eyes. Tiny blue eyes burned into his green ones. 

He held their demanding gaze, before caving and turning away to figure out a way to sort the problem. His eyes searched darted everywhere, from the sky to the trees to the pumpkins in front of him. He let out a gasp when his brain resolved the issue. 

"I know how to give Faith ears!" He exclaimed, jumping up to wrap Charity in his arms to calm down from their tantrum. The little beads of tears that had welled up in their eyes disappeared as if they'd never existed in the first place, but they still held a hard stare. 

"How!" They demanded, all the fight rushing into their voice. They were no longer lashing out, arms at their side and tail still, ears eager for an answer. Small hands reached up, holding onto one of his fingers. 

"I'll take my stem," Paprika reached forward, wrapping his hand around the stem of the pumpkin and snapping it off. Salt's stick horn got knocked sideways, but Paprika could fix it later. "And I'll take yours," his other hand found Charity's pumpkin's stem, snapped that, and set them aside. He used the loyal wood bark one last time to gouge holes on either side of Faith's 'head', before wedging the stems in place. 

Charity looked at the pumpkin for a minute, before turning back to their mother. 

"Now they look like horns. Brown horns. Faith doesn't have brown horns, Faith has ears," their blue orbs glancing at Paprika to solve this new issue. He scratched his head for a minute as he wracked his brain for another solution. His eyes roamed around again, about to go on an urgent cotton run before fluffing his wings up and halting in place. He turned and, instead, plucked a few of the weak plumage from them, masking his pain for the sake of art and happiness. 

Charity let out a soft gasp as he handed the feathers over to them, entranced at the pristine, white colour contrasting against their deep crimson fur.

"Use some honey to put the feathers on there. That way, they will have fluff in their ears," He clarified, relaxing back to watch Charity work and place the finishing touches on their masterpiece. 

The isoling stepped back, nestling beside Paprika to look at the two pumpkins. 

They were messy, an array of miscolours, dripping with pumpkin guts and seeds, and caved in at some areas, but--

The isomaras were proud. They accompanied one another, the sun beaming high above in approval at their work. 

"Do you think they'll like them?"

"Yeah, I think they will."