The scarred Scandinavian stared at his Priestess wife intently when she yelled at him that it was serious, eyebrow rising as if to say indeed it is silently. Black, leathery nostrils flared when she responded how it was so obvious that she all the sudden loved Thistle as a sister wife and family but Nerian hadn't answered his question, not really. If her words were meant to reassure him they were doing a poor job.
Letting out a snort he stalked over to the red peppers the Priestess spoke of, slicing into it angrily with his sharp canines, the muscles in his body going taunt as a seed touched his tongue, the burning and stinging painful though he ignored it. Ragnar was no stranger to pain and lifted his head to pluck the pepper from it's tether to the plant, setting it down gently even as his mouth felt like someone had set it on fire before Nerian. He couldn't not help them because he loved them but considering he did not have a straight answer he could not focus on the task at hand which was important ...but so was figuring out if he'd been deceived and if he would have to go home without his wives and tell his children. When Thistle let out a whine her mouth opened just enough for Ragnar to spit two of the seeds in her mouth, figuring he might as well do it since his own mouth had began to go numb from the burning of the pepper's seeds.