#baltasar.about

red and gold, through and through

fitted as a king, but with much more accessory and flourish, as if to distinguish himself from the role in a way that works for him

gold ear cuffs, various gold rings, gold bangles, gold chains--

crimson doublet with a long tail that just barely grazed the floor

low at the neck, giving just a hint of chest, showing how low the black of his beard might paint across his torso

deep black tights tucked into boots rugged enough to ride or dance

for the ball,

white and ivory replace the crimson and black, but the gold remains in place.

another beautiful morning, cast in gold, from such a divine sun. or, it would be, were baltasar in bed with the king, his husband and partner.

coming to his senses, baltasar felt rather upended. his perspective was skewed, which, when he opened his eyes fully, was put into better context; clenching his core, he pulled himself upright, and-- there. that looked better.

as always, the baltasar of last night was considerate enough towards the baltasar of this morning to leave his robe within arms' reach. decades of practice in debauchery and delinquency left him with plenty of muscle memory, between states.

leaving said robe open, the queen (god, he hated that title, but he knew which arguments were winnable) moved boldly from room to room, holding whatever apartment or mansion or palace he was in as his own court. from the layout, the decor, and the colors of the curtains and drapes, he could determine which house was hosting him. and-- ah. the mission. since he woke up alone, it's apparent one task was left undone. a bit of a borrowed sleeping draught in the wine the night before would mean said hosts would be out for a few hours more, and nobody would question the presence of half the kingdom's royal couple taking a brief tour.

or, detour.

and if they did, baltasar was anything but unskilled at defending his presence in some place he wasn't meant to be.

stealing into the noble's bedroom, baltasar at least had the care to finally tie his robe closed, lest he flash someone with holy sceptre before they were prepared to receive it. rifling through desks and bookcases, he stifled his pleased noise when he found it. now, where to hide it...

safe to say, on his way back to his gracious suite for the evening after the festivities, baltasar didn't dare drop the scroll that was pinned between rather famous cheeks. he'd be on the way back to the royal palace and his royal husband and his royal sons in short order, re-dressed with the disputed deed in-hand. another problem solved with pleasant presence and a heavy-handed pour. baltasar's tolerance for drink was legendary -- and it left him coherent when others were far from, which was when the real work could begin.

the hour still golden, queen baltasar sollia bade his thanks to the servants who saw him out, leaving them with a kind word to take to their employers.

( ADAM RODRIGUEZ, BISEXUAL, CISMALE & HE/HIM ) — by the grace of the gods, old and new, i present to you PRINCE-CONSORT, BALTASAR SOLLIA NEE CORDOVES of SOLLIA. the gods have blessed us with their presence for 52 years. the people of the kingdom have known them to be JOVIAL, PATIENT, and CONVINCING, and while it is not always shown to the masses, it is said they can also be ROWDY, IRREVERENT, and LECHEROUS. what will their tale in the story of metia be? only they can write it, so let’s see how their legend unfolds.