Dirty Old Town

Fearghas let out a small breath as he walked through the streets of Rosebury, the cool evening air pushing a breeze through his hair as he strolled along the mostly empty street.  Fearghas grabbed a small thermos he kept hooked to his belt loop and took a sip, a small smile on his face as he kept walking.  He walked past lamposts and looked at the street, the green grass and air of Ireland still felt like it was in his breaths, the streets still looked like the small two laners of his home.  He guessed this would wear out and he'd be like he was before.  That's why he grabbed some dirt and put it into a jar that sat under his bed.  If he wanted to feel the ground of home at least he'd have something, he'd be able to see it's still there with him no matter where he found himself.  

Fearghas followed the sidewalk before moving to an empty brick wall except for the various graffiti.  He sighed as he took another sip from the thermos, looking out at the storefront adjacent.  It was some type of thrift store, with various wares pretty much thrown about in the windows.  He sighed as he crossed his ankles, keeping his weight on the wall, his black shirt with an outline of Ireland with the Irish flag superimposed inside got stuck to the little cracks in the brickwork.  Fearghas ran his fingers through his hair, loosening his neck and looking at the sunset.  Thoughts fluttered through his mind, some of home, some of the people he met here in America.  It was odd though, he hadn't met too many.  He shrugged it off as the whole foreigner thing, but it was nagging on him lately...maybe he just needed to get out more.  Fearghas's eyes were distant, and he wasn't entirely there as he was casually daydreaming in the middle of the sidewalk, a small smile on his face.

Inside the store, the sharp yell of a man's voice seemed to filter openly into the street, an agitated tone in the shouts that seemed more and more evident, more and more loud. The louder the yells of indignation got, the more a word began to clear up in the ramblings: goat, goat, stupid goat, filthy goat. Evidently, the glass door had two cracks the size and look of a sparkler tip. To the door the shouts grew louder, loud enough to attract the sideways glances of people on the street, and out went a boy, followed hotly by the flaring figure of a middle-aged man.

"Ain't paying yuh if y'gonna be shite about it!" The boy seemed furious himself, closing his eyes and petting the clueless form of a small pygmy goat in his arms. The collar of his North Face jacket was upturned, the goat seeming more focused on nipping on the coat than the commotion at hand. "You pay!" insisted the middle aged man, the store owner, a flaring Middle-Eastern accent fresh on his lips. "You pay now!"

In the high of the feud, as it poured onto the street and attracted bystanders to absentmindedly form a U around the uproar, the boy did look at the man. He looked at them long and hard, and though he seemed ready to assault him, gave one calm word instead:

"Nae."

Suddenly, everything went silent. Suddenly, the old man seemed to get it. The boy put a finger to his mouth and smiled, and the old man shook his head with a final breath of indignance and went back into his store. Like that, with a simple definitive word, the scene was over. The crowd dispersed. The boy began to walk, clearly proud of himself.

As he passed Fearghas, he seemed to be murmuring soft scolds to the goat, petting its head and scratching behind its ears. The goat, as expected, didn't seem to care. It looked at everyone the boy passed, and at Fearghas.

Fearghas' eyes switched to the noise as the crowd began to grow, he tilted his slightly at the entire situation, the smile running from his face and becoming a look of bewilderment.  Then the boy walked out with an air of confidence he hadn't seen in a long time.  The boy carried something in his arms that wasn't exactly discernible from his distance, but he kept watching.

That's when he said one thing, the man turned on his heels and walked away like it was nothing...Oh boy, not one of these.  Last time he had someone who could do that he ended up half dead and beating up on a poor girl.  He still couldn't walk the same.  This boy however had a familiar accent, something he hadn't heard around the school and a small smile appeared on his lips as he pushed himself up from the wall to face towards the passing boy.


"Oi! Nice goat, howya?  I know yer accent, tell me you're not good wit' no black 'n tans now are ye? Ya don't seem like an eejit..."

Rohan stopped walking as his attention was called. It wasn't like he wasn't expecting someone to talk to him, maybe a bystander asking why the situation was defused so quickly or a girl asking for his number. But he wasn't expecting to be called for his accent. What was once a cool, almost bored expression became something of interest, his eyes widening from their previous, tired squint. "Y'Irish?" He lifted a finger to him, but it was accompanied with a grin, a thoughtful furrow of his eyebrows. "I'm from Edinburgh, if that's what y'askin. I dun' knae of no black 'n tans, is that a sports team 'er somethin'?" As he spoke, he pet the head of the goat some more, the budding stumps of two sprouting horns between his fingers. The goat seemed pleased as it pushed its face into the boys palm.

Fearghas offered a wide smile, his eyes lighting up a little at the mention of Edinburgh.  So he wasn't Northern Irish, but Scottish!  Fearghas crossed his arms as he looked the boy up and down, he didn't look like much, but the effectiveness of his power would seem to be more than enough to handle himself in any situation.  He locked eyes with the little goat, an eyebrow raised at the thing before shaking his head dismissively , looking back up at the Scottish boy, his brown eyes studying his features a moment before saying "Ah, t'e black 'n tans are t'e Brits.  I was makin' sure you weren't from t'e nort', Tiocfaidh ár lá and all t'at grand stuff.  Good to meet someone wit' a similar heritage, I'm from a small village outside a' Ennis in Clare." 

He absentmindedly rubbed the intricately carved cross resting on his chest, his right thumb grazing over the circle in the middle as he would continue "I'm Fearghas, and I can see you're a student of t'e same school, what wit' t'at ructions, wish t'ey had a Gaelscoil for t'is typa t'ing.  But t'ey sent me 'ere, can get a mite homesick, huh?"

Fearghas' accent was pretty thick, possibly getting thicker the more he talked, but it reminded the boy of the guys he'd hang out with back home, going through underground pathways and stealing purses off old ladies and dragqueens. The boy's accent seemed to relax a little more himself the more the other guy talked, but there was still the wary disconnect in his voice from talking to strangers. Perhaps it was that most people he met in Edinburgh or anywhere back home weren't exactly nice, or at least nice to him. "I dunnae, I like it 'ere. I was much tired of Scotland. Am Rohan, this li'le bastard is Macbeth." As Rohan talked he seemed to still be taking little steps, as he was walking before Fearghas called to him. "Come wi's," he said. "Gotta drop 'im off at the stable."

Fearghas listened to the boy, a smile on his face as he spoke.  It was pleasant to hear the accent, even if it wasn't the exact same it was something he could stand by.  Rohan...Wasn't a name he heard around, but not many people probably heard Fearghas, so it was nice.  

He wondered if people would be able to even understand them if they spoke with their true accents, the Scot definitely wouldn't understand half the things he said but he couldn't help but say some Irish slang that no one in America could understand.  His brown eyes studied the small little goat, which seemed about as mischievous as the boy.  He definitely had quite the silver tongue even without his power.  Fearghas, smiled at the offer, moving into step with the other Celt, trying to pull another gleeful sip from his thermos, though he bobbled it and it hit the floor open.  "Shite!" He attempted to grab it before it spilled everywhere, but a blackish liquid coated the sidewalk and the cheap thermos was broken anyways.

Fearghas kicked the thing away muttering "Last time I shop at t'at store, I shouldn't have held it all arseways t'ough."  He fell back into step with the boy, his hands in his pockets as he would let out a frustrated sigh.