Chapter Text
Skeletons don’t eat. Everyone knows this. They lack a tongue for tasting, a stomach for catching food, and all the other organs that do whatever happened to food when fleshy humans ate. Yes, Manfred was acutely aware that in reality eating held no real purpose for him.
Still, every night when he sat at the dining table with the Veilgaurd next to Professor Volkarin he found himself feeling envious. Once he had picked up a rather fluffy looking roll, the butter glistening in the rooms soft candle light. Oh, how he adored shiny things. As he went to place the scrumptious roll in between his jaws, the Professor gently laid a hand on his arm before he could bite it.
“Ah ah, Manfred,” the Professor chided kindly. “You are aware of what will happen with that. It will fall on the floor and go to waste. Neve worked so hard to make them, please put it back.”
Manfred looked to the roll, to Professor Volkarin’s face, and back to the roll. He hung his head and placed the roll back on the dish where it was.
“Aw, poor Fred,” Neve said, her voice overly sympathetic. “Let him have one, just this once?”
“Well…” The Professor said, shifting in his seat a bit.
“Come on Emmrich,” Rook said, interjecting herself into the conversation. “Look at him, he’s so sad!”
Manfred let out a small dejected hiss and a sniff, hanging his head even lower for good measure.
“I made the rolls for everybody. There’s enough for him,” Neve said, smiling at the pathetic wilting skeleton seated across from her.
“Well… alright. Since you made them and are giving permission I’ll allow it,” Professor Volkarin conceded. “Just this once.”
Manfred immediately straightened in his seat, rattling his bones with joy. He snatched the roll back from the table and held it two inches from his eye sockets. He turned it carefully, observing every angle of the previously forbidden delicacy. Its perfectly golden exterior practically glowed when contrasted against his own white finger bones. Then, without any more ceremony, Manfred brought the roll to his teeth and took a huge chomp out of it.
The hunk he bit off, of course, immediately fell through his jawbone, passing through his sternum and onto the floor. However, Manfred felt utterly entranced. The way the bread had softly compressed between his teeth. How the crust had enough firmness that there was a small but satisfying resistance as he tore off the chunk. Witnessing the bread that remained in his hand spring back up after the bite was taken from it. It was more than satisfying. It was beautiful. If he had tear ducts, he would have shed a solitary tear at the majesty of it all.
Manfred then immediately began enthusiastically ripping small bites out of the roll over and over again, sprinkling the ground with tiny bits of bread. He relished the experience with every bone in his body. Rook and Neve both laughed.
“I think he likes it!” Rook teased.
“Good,” Neve said. “He needs to put some meat on those bones!” Everyone at the table roared with laughter, except for Professor Volkarin.
His eyebrows knitted together and he frowned, “This enthusiasm is…new.”
“You worry too much. Leave him be,” Rook said. She reached out and grabbed one of the shiny baked goods for herself, shaking it in the direction of Volkarin. “He’s on roll!” More laughter, which got louder at the sight of Professor Volkarins worried face becoming even more distressed.
“Now, now,” Neve said, taking a deep breath to calm her giggles. “Professor Volkarin is just being responsible. He’s only concerned that Fred isn’t bread-y for it.” Once again, everyone erupted into laughter. The tips of Professor Volkarin’s ears tinged red.
“Well,” he said primly, “I believe it is rather too silly an atmosphere for me at the moment.” He rose up from the table. “Come Manfred, let us retire.”
“Wait, wait, Emmrich,” Rook protested. “I’m done. I promise, I promise.” She paused and grinned at the professor, ”You can crust me!”
Professor Volkarin scoffed, and headed out, leaving the boisterous laughter behind him. As Manfred followed, he pondered on his experience with the roll. He loved it, but found it was much too short of an experience.
“Goodnight Manfred,” Professor Volkarin said once they reached their living quarters, heading toward bed immediately. Manfred never really slept the way proper humans did, but he did rest. And as he did so, images of other foods danced in his head. What were they like?
When Professor Volkarin rose him years ago, he had to keep teaching him not to bite. There were so many things he wasn’t allowed to put his teeth on: hands, plates, cats, wall corners, rocks, chairs, candles, arms, flowers, rugs, tile, tables, carriage door handles, legs, dogs, test tubes, curtains, curtain rings, curtain rods, and kneecaps. It had taken him a while to get the hang of all of it.
But this roll? This changed everything. What other possibilities were out there?
At first, it was small things that Manfred was sure no one would notice missing from the pantry. A small hunk of cheese here, a nibble of tiny snippet of a a muffin there. At first, he was right. No one noticed. Then, he got bolder, taking a bit more at a time. Each food he tried was unique, a new texture. A new joy.
For a while, no one suspected him. Assan always entered the pantry after him, eagerly cleaning up the evidence from the floor. Once he almost got caught taking a single bite out of every apple in the pantry basket, but Davin walked in on Assan snacking up the last apple pieces off the floor. So, it was assumed the griffin did it. This pleased Manfred immensely.
The straw that broke the camel’s back came when Manfred came into the kitchen and spied a glorious warm pumpkin pie cooling on the counter. Its surface was so orange and smooth and inviting. It was practically begging him to sink his teeth into it. And who was he to deny its request?
Manfred picked up the pie with both hands and opened his jaw wide. With reverence he brought the pie up and sank his upper jaw into it. He relished the warmth of it against his teeth and the pleasing squish sound it made against the roof of his mouth. Carefully he removed the pie from his jaw and set it back down onto the counter. A perfect curved imprint of his teeth remained on the pie’s surface; like fresh footsteps after the first snow of winter. It was art.
Of course, not everyone thought of it that way. But good art is hardly ever understood by the masses. It didn’t take long for Lucanis to determine Manfred had ruined his oh-so-perfect pie. At first Manfred tried to deny it, but gave a defeated hiss when Professor Volkarin pointed out bits of dry pumpkin stuck in his upper teeth.
As an apology, Professor Volkarin had Manfred help Lucanis with the shopping for a month. Which normally he would have been upset about, but every time they went Lucanis would buy Manfred his own vegetable to bite on when they were at the market. When Manfred’s required sentence had been served, he hissed loudly on the next shopping day, following around Lucanis with empty grocery bags.
“You should let him keep coming with me,” Lucanis told Professor Volkarin. “He seems to want to. He frightens away all the pushy customers, which is useful for getting the good stuff for yourself.”
Manfred happily bit into a big yellow pepper, enjoying with crunch it made as Lucanis filled one of the bags he was holding with some kind of large juicy fruit.
“Manfred, mí amigo,” Lucanis said, smiling as he deposited a perfect specimen of a peach into the bag. “Since you’ve been coming with me, I haven’t had to buy one bruised thing. Let’s do this every week, eh?”
Manfred took another bite, and hissed in agreement.