#dyeingrosesred

[askweisswolf]

"Can we pretend I didn't just say that?" (White Rose, cop and woofcop)

Rubyknew they were squeaking as they asked that, and they didn’t care. Normallytheir trait to speak their mind without thinking was, well, something they didn’tthink about. It was simply part ofwho they were, and for the most part everyone around them loved it. For thepeople who didn’t love it, well, they weren’t the kind of people Ruby usuallycared about anyway.

Andif they did, they could always apologize.

Butthat trait had just come back to haunt them in a horrible way as they’d letslip that they thought Weiss was cute—nother human form, either, because that would have been smooth and acceptable anda little awkward, but somehow it would have been better than saying that theythought they partner’s four legged white wolf form was cute.

Because they had done that.

They had called Weiss’s wolf form ‘cute’.

And judging by the way Weiss huffed and flopped her headonto their stomach, forcing all of the air out of their lungs and making themlaugh weakly, they didn’t think she was going to let them forget about it forawhile, either.

[swindlebrindle]

tell the world [dyeingrosesred]

Brindle slipped through the crowd with a quiet ease, barely even getting a glance over the pallor of her skin. With a cap pulled down over her ears and tail coiled around her waist, she might have been a resident of this world. It was truly strange how similar they were to her own, despite the skin in various shades of steel grey and the horns on their brows that ranged from elegant whorls to blunt nubs to soaring spikes.

Some things were far more... alien. Squat beasts scuttered on the blue brick roads, with six jointed legs and chitinous exoskeletons. They looked like they could be spun of glass, their inner organs glittering red and green and blue in the dull light of the red sun. They carried riders and pulled carts, their faceted eyes black as buttons.

The rat slipped up to a food stall and pointed at a skewer studded with roasted tubers and a leathery turquoise flesh. Thanks, she muttered in this land's sibilant tongue, dropping a handful of faintly glowing orbs into the brass box bolted onto the wood. She had no clue as to the name and origin of the dish, but when she bit into the roasted root her mouth flooded with the taste of buttered popcorn. Her ears twitched under her cap as she scanned the street.

She could feel it, the magnetic pull of another world gate.