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Their home was often a mix of eclectic and organized. The wizards tended towards the latter while Molly had a habit of just tossing his things wherever he pleased. So of course in the weeks leading up to Halloween, their kitchen was a mess, even after the hour and twenty-three minutes Caleb had poured into setting everything up meticulously for their pumpkin carving.
Essek was scowling at his pumpkin like it had sided with his mother against him, Molly cackled at whatever he’d just carved into his, and Caleb was gaping down at what had been his pumpkin before the appropriately-named Trixie had batted it off the counter. The tortoiseshell now sat in its spot, cleaning between her claws and paw pads, extending each nail as she tongued across them.
It was a good thing they had bought extra pumpkins.
Caleb sighed and went over to their pantry, hoping he could get the cat to shift so he had the space to work. As he opened the door, however, there was a yelp behind him. He spun to look at the source of the noise, seeing Molly sucking on a finger, the knife he’d been using on his own jack-o-lantern dropped onto the island. Not seeing what could have caused the usually quite careful tiefling to misuse a blade, Caleb glanced up and down.
A pair of tiny blue-gray eyes gazed back at him from ankle height where the Purrfessor had sunk his own claws into Molly’s socks and straight through to skin. The small void blinked slowly once at Caleb, then darted off back to the rest of his litter, napping on the pillow in the corner of the room.
“Perhaps we miscalculated,” the redhead murmured.
“Oh, ye think!?” Molly growled around his hand.
Essek was still frowning, grumbling back, “Most of the cats are fine hanging around, it’s only a couple that get playful like this.”
“Aye, but their idea of ‘playful’ is usually more harmful!”
Now Caleb pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t say harmful–”
“Is now really the time to defend them, love?”
“They’re just–”
“Shit!” Essek yelped, jumping backwards as one of the smaller pumpkins they’d prepped came flying at him suddenly before bumping into the gourd he’d been carving and subsequently dislodging the pumpkin from the head of one of their orange cats, Mittens. The drow huffed a breath as Mittens shook his head, a few shreds of pumpkin guts flying off of his fur, before stretching and lying down. After a moment, he twisted to his back, one hind foot shoving Essek’s pumpkin and sent it hurtling for the floor. Only Essek’s floating cantrip stopped it from joining Caleb’s first pumpkin scattered across the ground.
“...Fine, maybe the cats shouldn’t be allowed to help with pumpkin carving.”
“Ta, love, can’t wait for dinner Grissen night!” Molly cheered with a bright grin as he picked up his knife again.
Somehow, the tiefling always managed to win their little bets.
The floodlamp they’d hung over their main workspace flickered, and all three glanced up towards it before following its cord to the wall, seeing Sieben with her gray paws wrapped around the cord, teeth gnawing into the wire.
“NEIN!”
“No more cats when crafts are involved?”
“A-fucking-greed, grab her!”