Sinric dances in through the door, singing. He’s dressed in masquerade costume – a gold sunburst half-mask, a skirt of shimmering gold and blue. His chest is adorned with a wide collar of starbursts of gold and emeralds and nothing else; his small girlish breasts exposed.
His voice is high and sweet, his hips swaying in time to
the song making the wide gold belt jangle and his long golden hair swing.
“
My true love has this fine noble steed, the like of which you ne'er did see. At every part of this horse's mane, there's hanging fifty silver bells and ten. There's hanging fifty bells and ten.”
He hasn’t yet realised where he is yet, still singing happily.
{ooc: feel free to mistake Sinric for a woman if you don’t already know him. Or point out that he’s semi-naked.}