Welcome to Gaia! ::

It had been such a quiet little nook that Iskernyk had stolen away into. It was a delight to visit when he could, and after playing, he had found himself a quiet room with some water where he didn't have to worry about performing older ballads and tales. No, his fingers danced across his strings, a quick-tempo but sad song he'd been picking at in his spare time. Humming the lyrics under his breath, ankle balanced across his knee as he made his way through the melody. Sir and Madam lay stretched across the small table next to him.

All was quiet and sweet, as Iskernyk wasn't paying to too much attention to what was around him -- his mind lost on his song, and a handsome greenrider as his inspiration.

What he hadn't expected was a green nose to suddenly shove into his chest, and his instrument twanged with a sour note at the abrupt stop. Wh..? "Uh... Oh, hi there.." He.. vaguely remembers this green, from a hatching only a few months ago. "A..ah, hello there, little.. big one." She wanted to hear him play again? Well, he could do that, certainly. His shock wearing off at the brusque, demanding tone, he adjusted his gitar in his hands before his fingers plucked at the strings, something happier, bouncier. Certainly a baby didn't want to hear his pining song.

He could only hope her rider came to pick her up. Soon.

His fingers plucked lighter, gentle on the strings as he eyed the weyrling. This wasn’t the weirdest thing to have ever happen to Iskernyk, but there was no doubt that it was quite up there.

“I promise I’m trying to listen. I played this one at dinner -- this isn’t the one you wanted?” Eyeing the rider hanging back awkwardly in the doorway, Isk slowed the strum of notes out softer, sweeter -- sadder even as the tempo picked up. “Th--this one?” Had he been caught strumming his embarrassing pining song?

A song he could barely play when he was alone, or visiting a certain greenrider and plucking out notes where his sweet dragon could hear it. An ache of feelings he had for one who wouldn’t return them, a tangle of his own heartstrings as he tried to sort his unrequited feelings -- to comb them smooth for one he couldn’t, wouldn’t woo as he’d wished.

“That’s one I’ve only been working on here and there -- it’s not quite done. It certainly doesn’t warrant my guitar being chomped on.” Still, the soft melody was coaxed from his instrument. “I would think such a connoisseur of my music would appreciate something a bit more..complete?”