Private: Libby & Barty.

[bluejeans]

((xD Sorry, to be honest. In primary school we didn’t do much English /: Had a teacher who loved the Irish language and seemed to make it our priority. /: ))

The girl played with her fingers as she listened, she wasn’t very well educated, and didn’t completely understand the statement, but could tell it was a warning. Her stomach turned at the mention of the rent. She glanced up at Snowfoot, her eyes studied him as she pondered how to tell him she hadn’t the money. “I...I don’t have the rent.” She said simply after a few moments of thinking. She could feel her skin go paler than normal. Her eyes wandered away, she wasn’t sure how he would react.

[Bartimaeus]

(Fine. xD I expect you're better at Irish than I am, however. xD)

Snowfoot let out a long and tired sigh. He pulled his forefingers to his face, and placed them across his brow in frustration. The insolent girl had dared even to... Snow turned his touunge in his mouth and bit his lip.

~Barty

[bluejeans]

((Eh, not great at Irish XD I have trouble learning Irish, and during or Irish lessons the teacher mostly spoke irish, so I didn't have a clue what she was on about. xD))

Niamh cast her eyes downward; she rubbed her hands together to warm them. She took a step away from the man. She blinked as a rain drop landed on her forehead, she glanced up, the clouds were thick and dark, it would probably storm that night. “I’m sorry.” She said clearly after a long pause.

[Bartimaeus]

(Tip: Try not to say: 'she', so much. Varied words are the key.)

"Fine, I'll let you off with a warning this time, but I'll be back next week for the money." Snowfoot grinded his teeth as he spoke the words. Stupid little peasnt girl.

~Barty

[bluejeans]

((Oh, xD I’ll try. ))

Niamh sighed in relief. After wiping her forehead she leaned against the wall of her house, she knew it was likely the rent wouldn’t be paid the next week, since her father refused to pay for the land that should be rightfully his. Niamh would have liked to tell him how she really felt about having to pay the rent, but of course she held her tongue. “Thank you.” Was what the girl murmured instead.

[Bartimaeus]

(Lawl, much better writing this pharagraph. ;D)

Snowfoot took his leave, turning back to his awaiting car. He stepped inside the large carrier as the driver began to make his way back to the new land, what once belonged to Niamh's family. "Ireland, what a queer and twisted land this is." Snowfoot muttered, tutting to himself. "I bet those smelly farmers didn't even understand half of what I was saying, stupid peasants. Why can't they learn to speak our language better, rather than that Irish Devil-tounge, I wonder..."

~Barty

[bluejeans]

Niamh murmured angrily as she watched the Snow go into the car. "How dare he demand us to pay for land that rightfully belongs to us." She muttered in Irish and stormed into the house, it had no windows, as they increased the rent. The fire was beginning to die down, so Niamh threw a sod of turf into the heart of the fire. It was about time the dinner should be cooked. She went off side to fetch some water in the near by river.

[Bartimaeus]

As the car pulled up along the muddy farm lane, Snowfoot glanced up at his new land and a face of revolt spread from cheek to cheek. He stared glumly up at his second home that stood to the side of the large farming lands. "I'm going to get some sleep, unpack my things in the front hall."

~Barty

[bluejeans]

Niamh returned to the cottage after fetching the pot of water and proceeded to hang it over the fire to boil. Then she dropped the potatoes into the pot before it began to boil. She sat down by the fire, she hugged her knees and thought about the close call with the rent. She had to convince her father to pay, or else get some kind of job.

Padraig stood outside with his hands in his pockets. The evening was drawing near, tonight he planned on leading a cattle raid.

[Bartimaeus]

(Continued from last time, I have some extra stuff to add. ;D I meant to have this in ma last post, but I was in a hurry so couldn't type it all out.)

(I don't know what a cattle raid is. ;S)

As the car pulled up along the muddy farm lane, Snowfoot glanced up at his new land and a face of revolt spread from cheek to cheek. He stared glumly up at his second home that stood to the side of the large farming lands. "I'm going to get some sleep, unpack my things in the front hall."
"Yes sir..." The driver looked downwards as he spoke to his master.
Snowfoot wandered off through the spacious new house of his, very displeased with Irish taste. "Ugh... I don't understand why I have to bloody live here - I should just send some servants over to watch the land while I make my way back to England next week. It's unbearable to have to live in such an Irish dump." The driver looked up as he trailed behind Snowfoot into the house.
"Well... You have to meet a Padraig O'Neil tomorrow, for arrangements..." The driver began to stop talking as his master swivelled round to give him an angry glare.
"Yes yes, I know. It's just so irritating that I have to do this in person. I don't understand why I have to meet some Irish hobbies in some smelly Irish shack, when it's obvious that I should be able to send servants over." Snow foot began to wander about, looking for the bedroom. "Why do I have to stay here anyway? Why did I have to come over here in the first place?!"
"...Because the King said so."
"Oooohhhh......... 'because the King said so!" Snowfoot mimiced in a sqeaky voice, dancing about the floor in an attempt to irritate and intimidate his servant. "...Go find the servants quaters, and wake me in the morning for seven."
Snowfoot wandered off through the house, until he arrived in the bedroom, which seemed rather small and stuffy in comparison to the rest of the house. The walls were painted a garish pale green, with half-clean carpets of scarlet. "Ugh..." Snowfoot muttered to himself once more about politics, the bloody king on his bloody throne, the rest of this horrid Irish land, and other petty annoyances in his petty life.

Snowfoot's eyes shot open to the sound of yelling, far off in this echoing valley he shared with many Irish peasnts. Bloodshot, red and swollen, his eyelids drooped again. The man grinded his teeth, sliding into an upright position. Angrily, he persisted to kick the wall in a blind rage.
Servants rushed in to assist him. "Are you all right?" One asked, a boy around the age of sixteen.
"No I'm bloody not alright!" He yelled in return. "What time is it?"
"...Eight." Another replied hastily, hoping that his master would not notice what he was dreading.
"[censored]!" Snowfoot yelled again, jumping to his feet. The servants shuffled about uncertainly and unsteadily."Henry! Henry get in here at once!" Evidentally Henry was not woken by the yelling. "Don't just stand there, someone go and fetch him!" He snarled.
The same skinny and spindly driver, pale face, loosing his hair and the same grey mustache came running into the room, in a blind panic. "What is it sir?" He panted out, wheezing slightly as he spoke.
"Go away," Snowfoot signalled to the other servants of the house, "and shut the door on your way out." The servants did as he asked. "Now..." Snowfoot twirrled his tounge in his mouth, rubbing his brow in annoyance once again. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago..." Snowfoot's voice trailed off into space.
"I'm sorry... sir." Henry muttered.
"Oh, it doesn't matter anyway. They're just some peice of Irish dirt, I shant need to even apologise for being late. Nevermind then, I'll just get ready and arrive when I can." He gave a half-smile to the driver, who didn't quite know how to react. Worried that he may get slapped for saying anything in agreement, he shuffled out the room. Snowfoot closed the door on his way out.
"That stupid old monarch, sitting up there on his throne telling us what to do. He doesn't even know what he's doing, stupid old gyser inheritted the crown by accident. He has no senses, someone who'll really know what do do with their power should be stuck up there. That Charles I should be hanged for incompitence. I'm surprised the civil war hasn't broken out into a full-on scale yet." Snowfoot muttered to himself as he got dressed out of his nightwear and into more appropriate clothing. "Anyway, I have to stay on the moanarch's side, otherwise I'll loose all this land I've gained. Not to worry anyway, the war should soon be over and I'll get to stay in peace, move back to England."
Stupid 'Padraig O'Neil', what's his business wanting to meet with me anyway...?"

~Barty