[private] as we explore the carnal score of sacred and profane.

Light is, for reasons of his own, spread out in a chair in the music room. He's surrounded by rhythm instruments - drums, castanets, spoons - but looks a million miles away, and isn't playing any particular one. Reaching out, he taps a tambourine; all the little bells chatter.

Also, his hair is bright blue.

[[OOC: private to stripesandheels.]]