So spoke the Radiant One; then gave me the magic herb, pulling it from the ground and showing me in what form it grew; its root was black, its flower milk-white. Its name among the gods is moly.

[…] the men of the city, certain sons of Belial, beset the house round about, and beat at the door […]

And the Father's counselor suggested that he invite you along to help: sort of a re–baptism of fire, so to speak.

Part of an ongoing ethnography of an imperial sovereign court I am undertaking, this chapter explores the world of the lesbian drag king and the gendered performance she undertakes in this realm.