#skilandis

[vegehana-food]

✿ スキランディス | Skilandis ・リトアニアで少なくとも16世紀から作られているソーセージの一種。EUの「原産地名称保護制度」で認定されています。肉、コショウ、油、塩を冷燻することで作ります。形は一般的なソーセージの形と異なり、直径は80mm以上の滴型で、お店ではロープに縛って売られています。食すときは、ホカホカのジャガイモやパンと頂くのが定番です。

[ohterribilita]

Skilandis

The Wendigo did not sleep consistently. Sometimes when the hunger was strong, it didn't sleep at all, and stayed awake with bright, beady eyes searching for unsuspecting prey in the urban jungle. Other times, it slept the rest of the dead, curled into a big black feathery ball in a pit or nest of its own making. It could not sleep indefinitely, however, as the hunger would always break it out of its rest, or it would become too uncomfortable as its physical mass grew and grew. At best, the excess flesh and feathers (and sometimes limbs and teeth) were a nuisance, at worst they were a liability, a clear warning that it was not what it seemed.

The first thing it did upon rising was strip a long leathery piece of flesh from its cheek, tossing it to the floor. The black flesh would dry and wither, then turn to untraceable dust if not disturbed. It sat up, clawing at its face and shoulders, and the excess feathers shed away, leaving an outline on the bed of where his body had lay. With that accomplished, it looked to its side at the prone form on the mattress. For a few moments it seized Bran up with its eyes and licked its lips. The prey was so close, and so exposed, pink and covered with little orange speckles. It leaned in close and inhaled deeply against Bran's skin, then raised it head to his hair, sniffing again. It smiled and bared its teeth, leaning in to the soft, exposed neck..

No, it thought, sitting back, not yet. Not this one.

It let out an annoyed wuff of breath. It went against its instincts to leave such vulnerable prey behind. But the Man knew that Bran had been perfectly polite, pliable, warm. So the Wendigo rolled out of bed without taking a bite out of the young human. It stood, stretched, then went to shower, rubbing off the rest of the extra flesh and the smell of sex and sweat. It sniffed at a few of the soaps in the bathroom but found them offensively cheap, though it didn't blame Bran for that. he was obviously too weak for the finer things in human life. He needed to eat.

The Wendigo dressed and left the apartment to buy a newspaper and to stalk the alley where it had hunted last night. The area was surrounded by bright yellow police tape and a throng of people. When a pretty blonde reporter asked him about the incident, it said it was a shame, then went on its way. 

It had eaten all of the food in Bran's apartment (well, not the ramen, but that was in the bin now), so it went to a grocery store first. Being surrounded by so much fresh food energized it, and by the time it was walking back to Bran's, all the soreness from the excess growth had gone out of it.

It was fortunate to be accosted by a young man with a knife a few blocks from Bran's building. It had bought other meat to restock the young human's kitchen with, but it was happier when it was able to return to Bran's with a shoulder of mugger.

The food it wasn't going to cook went into the fridge, and the rest it arranged on the kitchen table. It shed the suit jacket, pushed up its sleeves, and got to work, preparing a roast of shoulder with vegetables, eggs, and a swan constructed delicately from apple slices. It ate mouthfuls of raw shoulder stripped from the flesh with the pilfered knife while it waited for the roast to finish.