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Something wasn't sounding right.

Entering his fifth repetition of a scaling slide in the subdued D flat, Talymn's hands kept freezing at one specific point in the arrangement. With just the slightest crease in his forehead giving away his growing annoyance, the Rocker troll repeated the manoeuvre another five times; freezing at the exact same place, on the exact same notes without ever losing tempo.

3. 2. 1. Repeat... Freeze.
3. 2. 1. Repeat... Freeze.
3. 2. 1...

The crease in his forehead grew deeper and deeper until finally on the 23rd repetition, his fingers slammed hard on that final position, making his keytar ring out in strange, warbling- albeit slightly muted- protest. He held it for a few long seconds before easing his fingers, still maintaining the position of both hands and as soon as the sound died out in his ears, he slowly began to depress each key in an ascending scale with a beat and a half between each note. He did this two more times, extending each note by half a beat before letting the near silence of the outdoors take over again.

Exhaling a long depressed sigh, Talymn opened his eyes, looking down at his keytar with a mix of frustrated confusion and bitter annoyance before reaching down for a black saddlebag resting at his feet to produce a small tuning box. He attached it to his keytar via output cables and played the same chord progression again, frowning at the results. Everything was reading up just fine and dandy. Frequencies were par for the course and the audio was emitting exactly as it should be.

"So why the Hell does et sound off...?" He grumbled to himself, unplugging the device and dropped it back into the bag. Despite wanting to give it a rest, Talymn stubbornly continued on with his practise, forcing himself to move past the sour notes and through the rest of the song.

With his eyes closed, Talymn pretended to have not noticed that he was being watched. Subtly, he began putting in a bit more flair with his performance now that he had suddenly gained a(n) nosy, little onlooker audience; a few whimsical gestures and sudden wrist flicks laced with impromptu finger positions that just added to the lighthearted, fanciful tune he had gracefully switched into. Without losing tempo or rhythm, Talymn raised his head at the other troll's interruption, a brow raising slightly in mild bemusement.

"Funny sounds?" He echoed, feigning a bit of insult as he lessened the volume for a repeat; almost like putting a bit of background music to this odd exchange. "How ya mean 'funny'?" A quick crank on one of the knobs and a tap of a preset button added quiet, playful whistling chimes as the main sound became a supporting tinkering of a music box. "The Major 'ere doesn't do 'funny'." He added with a small smirk.

With each question she shot out at him, Talymn's keytar obliged with a peppy, rising scale in staccato before returning to that slightly muted repeat of bouncing G and C Majors. He wasn't sure which question to answer first and so went with the option of not answering any of them at all. Well, not in succession at least. "Well, yer quite the bub'ly li'l bedbug, yeh?" Talymn flaunted his usual smile at her, stealing a subtle glance at her blood insignia. Ah, Teal bloods... He could always appreciate how intuitive and open those ones usually turned out to be. A blessing being smack dab in the middle of the hierarchy, he supposed.

"Atiqua- Oddly pleasin' meetin' ya~" He rhymed, giving The Major a rest for the first time in hours, stroking her spine lovingly and rubbed in a piece of duct tape that was starting to peel off at the head with his left thumb. Finding the girl's attention remaining solely on his instrument and not the performer was a bit of a downer to the Rocker Troll, but he shrugged it off for now, obliging to let her admire his electronic companion. "Introducin' Major Dischord~! An 'eadstrong, sturdy lass by all rights through an' through!" He crowed, tilting it just slightly so it rested across his lap evenly, but history of dealing with thieves made him wary enough to keep his grip firm on the neck and let his right arm rest slantingly across the body.

"Ne'er a finer Mistress o' Melody
Her sweet voice, oh, let it carry
You away- away- away~
Darlin', yes, you carry me
Away, away, away~

He shrugged a little, feeling maybe that little ditty was pushing the envelope in being too cordial, but the feeling didn't linger long as he started playing again; the bouncing G and C chords. Perhaps she'd recognise his voice from somewhere and he could revel in that sudden 'light bulb' moment of 'I've heard of you!" before he actually went and introduced himself proper. Then again, she was most likely out of his usual demographic when it came to the Sick Metallic Jams of Legend.

Eh, worth a shot.

While that wasn't exactly the reaction he was hoping for, the excitement and wonder exhibited by the young troll was just as welcome. Leaning back on his makeshift seat- a long since decapitated tree stump- Talymn looked off to the side in feigned bashfulness as that knowing smirk dominated his features again.

"Weeeeell, yeh, yanno.. play a few gigs 'ere an' there." He began, looking back to her from the corner of his eye, "Latest appearance was at the Blood Fest some whiles back... Take et ya didn't hatch in time fer that, yeh? Shame... But! I'm pretty much becomin' a big deal in some circles, if I can say so m'self."

King of Rock... heh... He couldn't help but smile at that. Seriously, how many days had he spent dreaming of when the world would hail him as such? Hell, that dream wasn't even limited to the time wasted in sleep! He could babble on and on about how his quadratic romance with Music began; how he could still get shivers from just a few simple notes played in dramatic flair. How many volumes could he fill detailing the dreary and sometimes disheartening hours he spent obsessively in search for the one piece that would serve and embellish his talents, practising everything from the demanding, physical nature of drums, to the sometimes painful and always fickle strings that wanted absolute perfection in strict form before he found his true fancy manifested in ebony and ivory bars. The warmth of a piano, with all its tones and intricate hand positions made all the more exotic by its mimicry of all the other instruments due to technological advancement.

He couldn't help but wonder about how many volumes his biography could fill later on. Maybe not even half as many as he'd imagine, but as long we're dreamin'...

"Practise." He said finally, "Practise, practise, practise for sweeps an' sweeps, long an' long. Wit' as many sources as I could find." He shrugged a little, "Prolly sounds tedious, but if yer passionate 'nuff... Never is a single minute wasted. Speakin' o' which... ya got any aspirations to sail towards yet?" He added, remembering the little piece of nautical trivia she had dropped earlier.