The late afternoon sun tints the room a rosy gold, reflecting off the copper of the buildings to cast everything in an ethereal glow. One of the few things Balthier always missed about Archades. So many afternoons spent as a child with his mother, making art in that magical hour of perfect light.
Today, David sits out on the balcony reading, the fall air playful and lovely. Balthier has a perch in a chair, tilted out so he can see David. In his lap is a small notebook he often keeps with him but has never actually let David see; by now it's filled with small sketches of the man he loves, stolen when the other is busy.
Maybe it's how long they've been together now, maybe it's the disarming pleasantry of good light and weather from a bright spot in his youth, maybe it's the way steeling away to an apartment like this makes it easy to feel like everything else can be put aside for awhile -- whatever the reason, Balthier is more relaxed, and so when he stands to go pour himself fresh tea and pull an offering of snacks for David, he leaves the notebook open on the table beside him.
for @helpdesk_hero
Today, David sits out on the balcony reading, the fall air playful and lovely. Balthier has a perch in a chair, tilted out so he can see David. In his lap is a small notebook he often keeps with him but has never actually let David see; by now it's filled with small sketches of the man he loves, stolen when the other is busy.
Maybe it's how long they've been together now, maybe it's the disarming pleasantry of good light and weather from a bright spot in his youth, maybe it's the way steeling away to an apartment like this makes it easy to feel like everything else can be put aside for awhile -- whatever the reason, Balthier is more relaxed, and so when he stands to go pour himself fresh tea and pull an offering of snacks for David, he leaves the notebook open on the table beside him.