The Pygmy from Edinburgh [OPEN]

Berg, berg, berg, it was a sound that reeked of foreign ignorance, of the narrow-eyed world of someone who'd never been to Scotland. The boy didn't want to think that he was the foreign one, that he was the tourist snapping pictures of the old city, the old forest that clung to the North Dakota land as his train had pulled into the station. Rosebury. He surely wasn't going to call it Roseberg.

The receptionist took an egregiously lengthy look at the old desktop screen, its monitor flickering with an analog line, black and rolling. She adjusted her glasses, her mouth ajar just enough for the boy to get a glimpse at her golden teeth, to grimace before she snapped her frowning lips closed and gave him a buglike stare. "You're from Edinberg," came her deadened words, more of a statement than a question, and she breathed with heavy obstruction, like her lungs were a tabletop from a bleach commercial.

"Edinboro." His reply came on an inkling of good humor, a polite smile that his mum always told him was his best feature. It faded to an uncomfortable frown, a sideways glance to the door that hung open. He wanted to go through that door, but was stuck standing at that desk, staring around at anything he could lock his eyes on. The lady seemed unfazed by the correction. He was sure she didn't even hear his response, her filmy eyes focused on the old computer.

"You brought a goat with you." It was a matter-of-fact, grimy utterance, like she had an innate hatred of goats. Rohan focused his eyes on her face, or at least tried to, his eyebrows curved, his lips half-parted. His malevolence faded, though, and he breathed deeply. Ye father's temper, the village would always chime whenever he showed the least bit of irritation. It's ye father's temper, ye father's temper. He'd gotten good at hiding it; all he had to do was breathe.

"Mhm," The boy said thinly, leaning his elbows on her desk in a loiter. The lady's gaze shot up and he regained his previous stance. "His name is Macbeth."

"Did the schoolboard allow this?"

"I wouldn't have brought him if they didn't." Another laugh was cut short by the hawkish glare of the old lady. His mouth straightened. It took another few, long minutes for her to finally approve his goat, and thus himself.

"Rohan McCaig, you're approved," she said with the slightest hint of a smile, but it was lost as she barked: "Now get out of my office." A stamped paper, a key, and he was sent off.

It seemed that Macbeth had made it across the continent well. Rohan was afraid for the little guy; the jet-black little animal was less than a year old. When he'd made it to the stables, to his small area fenced in the corner, the goat jumped vivaciously, and Rohan stepped into the pen to be assaulted by him. He headbutted at his leg unsuccessfully, causing the boy to smile. He sat there for a while, watching it prance excitedly over nothing and pulling up his collar, checked his watch. It was 4 pm in Scotland. 11 am in North Dakota.

He rubbed his hand up his chest, under the coat, wincing as his fingers chased the ridge along his sternum. However bad the people in America were, berg people were better than those back home.

Sophia was on her way to the stables, a bag of apples in her hand. She would occasionally visit the horse and feed them some treats as a way to relax or get herself out of a weird mood. Due to recent events she really needed it, and she really had drawn out most of what she was going to draw out so she was left feeling a bit empty on the inside. Though she still wore a smile. She would always were a smile.

When she reached the entrance to the barn, she held the small bag behind her back, and pushed the door open, letting the familar noises bring some relief, but something else caught her attention, something new. She looked out of the corner of her eye, and saw a boy, and a goat? Well that was new. She turned fully to look at the goat, and the boy. She hadn't seen either of them before. She took a step closer to see the goat fully. A small smile was on her face as she spoke up. "He is cute. Does he like apples?" She asked moving the bag to her front.

Rohan turned to the voice, raising his eyebrows to the girl. He pulled the collar of his North Face up and leaned back; he was sitting on a stump but pressed himself against the wooden wall, petting the restless goat's side as long as he could until it hopped over to Sophia, headbutting the fence that contained them. Rohan watched with a slim smirk. "He likes anything he can put his mouth around." His accent was apparent, and his eyes looked up at her. He rolled his tongue around his mouth wordlessly for a moment. "His name is Macbeth. Like the play."

Sophia's eyes flicked over to the boy for a moment, he was kind of cute, but that isn't what she was hear for. She walked a little closer to the pin that contained the goat. Not really responding to the boy's gesture, except for the slight pink that dust her face, but it was gone within a few seconds. "Nice name." She looked over to the boy again. "Mind if I give him an apple?" She didn't want to give the Macbeth an apple and the boy be against it. "Also may I ask what your name is?"

"Sure. If you don't, he'll fight it off of you somehow." He let out a sharp click to the goat, who was hopping around and butting at where she stood outside of the gate. It turned to meet the gaze of the boy, a boy whose eyes went from an amber to a redder vermilion hue for a brief moment. He clicked his tongue and the goat galloped over to him, clearing Sophia's way into the pen. When he looked back up to her, his eyes seemed to have returned, or did they ever change colors to begin with? He smiled for a minute, almost as if he was debating revealing his identity. "Rohan," was his final answer, his hand running over the fluffed up head of the goat as it pushed it into his palms. "And you?"

Once the goat was out of the way and it was clear to step into the pin, the spring girl did so, sort of carefully so the goat wouldn't suddenly make a dash for it. Pulling one of the smaller apples from her bag, she held it out for the goat to take from her palm. "That is a nice name. I'm Sophia, or Sophie. Whichever you prefer." She responded. She had other variations of her name, but she didn't need to list them out.

"Sophia." He repeated the name, and paused for a moment in thought, even going so far as to stroke his chin. He finally put his hands behind his head and smirked. "Like the school in Greece, right?" He knew all too well about that school. And they knew plenty about him. Macbeth seemed blissfully disinterested in any exchange going on between the humans, taking no time to inspect the apple, bounding over and taking it in his mouth.

Once the goat took the apple from her, she let her hand move back to her side, and she stood up straight once again. "Sure, though I think it's spelled differently. I spell my name with a ph, and I think they spell theirs with an f." She never looked too much into the other school, she didn't really care about it, even with it being a sister school. She tucked the bag behind her back again. She would have to feed the horses after she was done talking to this boy.

Rohan pursed his lips dryly. She was going into the spelling? That was one place to take that conversation. "I'm not right fond of the academy," he admitted with a downward laugh, an absent-minded scratch of the shadow down the horizontal of his chin. "They seem not to like me that much." A low glance turned into a suddenly high, earnest stare, like a cat. Even without activating his power, he always knew how to look at someone. It was a family quality. "I hope y'doan end up like your namesake, is not a very good thing to have no friends at a new school." At this he looked down at the goat who had found his leg once more, and the hand that was at his chin glided down softly to meet its fur.

Sophia looked over to the boy, her face holding a slight frown as he mentioned the other school not like him too much but it soon was replaced with a small friendly smile. "Well for the short time I have known you I like you enough. So I don't think I'm living up to the name sake." She said to the boy. She walked away from the pin for a moment to set down the bag of apples in a safe place. She could get to the horses later. It was nice to talk to someone that didn't know about the incident that occurred a few days before.

"It's been but a few moments, burd." He kept a smile, and thought for a moment. He wasn't one to sink his own ship, at least he didn't think he was, but he saw a challenge in what she said, in her optimism toward their fledgling relationship. "My father was a crime lord who killed and raped hundreds. How's that saying go? Like father like son?" Despite the dark fact, he smiled like it was a joke, like she was a mate at a bar and they were recollecting old, whimsical memories. He scratched Macbeth's head in the process.

"Well if you are suggesting you would try something with me like that then you would find out very soon that it would be a bad idea." She said simply, clearing that up first. "And I don't judge based on Parents, I determine whether I like a person or not based on the person's actions towards me, not anyone else. Give me a reason to not like you, then I most likely won't if you don't want me on your good side that is." She wasn't going to be friends with or at least attempt to be friends with a person who didn't even want to be her friend in the first place. She just thought she would offer. She wasn't a small little child who wanted everyone to be her friend. She was just being friendly is all. Her small smile soon returned. "Just being friendly, what you do with that is up to you."