Sweet Sounds [B'jin]

Sitting in a half-hidden area of the Crafting Hall, B’jin was surrounded by guitars, strings, picks and broken bits and bobs. To his left, sitting carefully and tidily perched against the wall, was an aged guitar, looking perfectly serviceable and incredibly well maintained. That, however, was exactly the issue B’jin was currently faced with. The guitar in question was old, a gift made during Exile by his then-Weyrmate N’mall. B’jin had lost it for quite a while after stealing the candidate Allendris (now bonded to a lovely bronze, naturally) and it had taken a turn or three before he managed to get it back, not only from the North, but also from the ‘rider that had gone to get it for him.

No one knew that the instrument was made by N’mall, except for two people – B’jin, and N’mall – and at the core, that was the issue. Three days prior, when B’jin had been playing during dinner (something most of the harper trained were rotated through) N’mall had found the time to pass by B’jin, and murmur in his ear about how lovely it was to see him with his guitar once more. B’jin had just stared at the brownrider as he sauntered off, but the man had struck a chord, and B’jin had been trying to figure out how to replace his beloved instrument, without it being a kneejerk reaction.

Curse him, B’jin grumbled to Larrikith – not for the first time – as he fiddled with the tuning of another one of the less than brilliant instruments that were kept within the Hall for free usage. They were junk, and B’jin’s nose scrunched up at the mere idea of even being seen playing one of them. He’d rather put up with N’mall’s quips when the brownrider passed close enough by to murmur them, than be caught dead in the Dining Hall with one of those pieces of crap!

You’re going to have to make one, Larrikith supplied, and B’jin could tell her nose had scrunched in distaste at the thought. B’jin was fantastic with a pen, and he was great with his voice, but the making of instruments was definitely a hit and miss ability. Mostly, almost entirely, a miss. B’jin had made all of two serviceable instruments in his turns as a Harper, and they were barely that. The greenrider huffed, brushing a hand back through his hair and picked up the guitar that was the cause of all the issues. He refused to get one custom made, because people would ask why he was retiring his beloved guitar – it was certainly no secret that B’jin would gut anyone that touched it.

Looks like it, B’jin grumbled in response, placing it across his lap and adjusting his seat accordingly. A flutter of fingers over the strings produced a low, melodic sound, and B’jin closed his eyes and relaxed, leaning back against the wall and strumming a couple more times before settling on a tune and playing it through, his voice low and soft as he sung the lyrics. Because he was singing to himself, he didn’t project his voice, and was mostly unaware that he had gathered a little onlooker.

You have an audience, love, Larrikith interrupted at the end of the song as B’jin let his fingers fall still. Brown eyes fluttered open, surprise flickering over the man’s face before his features broke into a warm smile at the sight of the young girl. “Hello, Casa!” Still smiling, B’jin waved his fingers at the girl, inviting her closer. “Would you like to play?” She wasn’t about to be handed his baby, but there were an assortment of guitars scattered around him, and B’jin carefully pointed to one after a moment’s consideration.

“Pick up that one there, and sit like me.”