Author's Note: There's really no reason for my writing this. I'm just White Rose trash.
I'm aware it's a very short story-a snippet of 661 words. Normally that would mark it a tumblr exclusive, but for some reason I'm having trouble pasting it onto the website. So it's going here.
Inspired by that time I walked into a Chair and Trellis and thought, "This is fancy."
The warmth of the sunlight filtered through the slats of a sideways screen into the luxuriously furnished living room of Weiss Schnee, spilling across mahogany surfaces and the many textures of items collected from around the world. The bulk of the light was directed squarely in the middle of the far wall at the couch with wood that curled like a shell at each end, its brown and yellow stripes hidden under a red blanket. Tacked above the couch was giant oil portrait of Weiss herself, carefully fitted into a hand-crafted bronze border. There was a rustling underneath the blanket, and Ruby Rose emerged, holding one end of the velvet over her head. She looked at the painting on the wall and sniggered.
"I still think putting that up is overdoing it."
"Ruby," said Weiss under her, in the drawn out tone of someone who'd been spoken to while asleep. She rolled on her side, crossing her arms to compensate for the loss of the blanket. "I told you five years ago when we met. A high-status person needs reminders of their status for the sake of their dignity and maintaining economic stability."
Ruby looked around at the trove of material wealth that had built up in the room. "That's enough status to curate your own museum," she said. "You should charge people to come see it."
"You're a pest," said Weiss, grabbing for the blanket. Her eyes were still closed. "That's the same thing Blake told me."
"Speaking of Blake." Ruby bent her free arm to hover inches above Weiss. The couch's smoothly tucked fabric felt firm and springy under her palm. "She'll be waiting for you. It's not like a gazillion orders for the great Schnee Corporation can be handled by one finely-dressed bodyguard."
"It's Sunday," said Weiss. "We open late." She grabbed the blanket next to Ruby's shoulder and yanked it down. Ruby felt the velvet slide off her torso as Weiss cocooned into it. The older woman faced away from the couch and covered her face with her arm to block the sun's glare. Ruby smiled and slid onto the waxed wood floor to water the plants.
The pitcher clinked lightly against the kitchen sink as Ruby turned on the faucet. The bubbles frothed in curls at the base of the glass and surfaced into the top smooth and new. The tiny plastic rose on the windowsill swayed back and forth in its pot, its two tilde-shaped petals moving up and down with each shift. Ruby flicked it to the left, spinning it into work for a second before it slowed back into rhythm. She left the sunlight of that window and returned to the living room, where two vases of hydrangeas rested on top of polished podiums on either side of the couch. Ruby watered them quietly, tilting the pitcher all the way over when there was only a little liquid left. She put her fingers along the beak to catch the final drops. She righted the pitcher and lowered it, glancing with a smirk at Weiss. Silently, she came over to the heiress's face. Weiss had curled toward the blanket, the fabric stretched taut over her shoulder. Ruby bent down and flicked the water on Weiss's face.
The effect was instantaneous. "Ruby!" Weiss yelled, kicking the blanket off. She shoved her arms out, knocking Ruby down the floor. Ruby tripped over the Persian rug laughing as Weiss stood, her eyes open and glaring at last. The year-long manager of the Schnee Dust Company made a noise of impatience and tossed her head. Strands of her hair were tilted more out of place than usual from the previous night. "You're a dolt," she said to Ruby on her way to the shower.
"I know." Weiss told her on a regular basis.
Ruby went back to the kitchen and put a frying pan on the stove. In a half hour they were at the table eating brunch.