Sunspire Mountains he threw me on the needle bed, across my dress he laid

"You didn't, until you pissed in the willows, and yelled during the meeting between the two." He really didn't do anything until those two moments. However even if he wasn't in the saints, those incidents alone would make him a bad guy, that Orlaith would've chased out regardless. Of course, the more anger in the situation was definitely caused by via' association.

"As long as you're with them, you'll always be clumped with them you know." She could only shrug her shoulders at it all. Orlaith even attacked Derg for simply being associated, as she wanted to give a fair warning to the saints. However it simply bit her back at the meeting, and gave her a bad name. She didn't regret it, because she didn't regret attacking anyone who bares their name.

As much as she may now feel more calm with Riley, the flaming wolf didn't regret inflicting his injury. He still, disrespected their court.

Riley could hardly call pissing on a tree in defiance chaos, but one look at the guarded visage of the spitfire and he knew there was no budging her opinion.

They would just go back and forth, bickering -- hemming and hawing -- splitting hairs over what was and wasn't right. They were oil and water; if she was the flame-engulfed phoenix, Riley was the steady and immovable moss-ridden rock. They simply did not see eye to eye on what was spoken, despite the fact they very well might have been shored from the same clay.

He harrumphed, watching the rains as they fell in a cold and obscuring veil across the world. From their quiet, stony view it looked as if the entire world was one miserable shade of grey; even the emeralds of the distant slope were dulled to gunmetal.

As long as he was with them, he would always be clumped with them. He hated that as much as he hated the suggestion he was a pawn. "I don't hate you." Riley finally admitted, still watching the slow-moving clouds as they stormed across immeasurable distances. "I hate many things, though." Riley paused, thinking of the girl in the woods he had found. His mouth twisted in inexplicable sadness. His hate was effusive and raw, so real in its presence he felt it morph in his throat like an ashy carcinogenic.

"I don't hate you either," now talking more, the fire subsided, "but I hate you're group," however, that part didn't change. Even if they never personally did wrong, she didn't like how they stood. The arrogancy that twirly-tailed man held was something she disliked as soon as she saw him, and knowing the dissaray at the coast, she found no reason to like them.

"Then what do you hate?" Orlaith would've thought he would hate her especially, after causing a wound amongst his side. Or at least the court, and their 'soggy trees,' that she rather liked. It was definitely a beautiful place, but at times, she was definitely out of place. A fire amongst the breeze, they were all like wind-nympths and water-fae's, while she was the only fire fairy.

Though now, she doesn't claim to be a fairy anymore. Even the old court, she didn't feel right calling herself a fairy. She was a wolf, on fire.

"twirly-tailed", lol'd

Riley hadn't hoped the same for him, but Orlaith revealed that while he had earned her teeth, he had yet to earn the hard bite of her enmity. For that, he was surprised -- and unexpectedly overcome with a feeling that was not exactly unpleasant.

As for what he hated? If he was a joking man, he might say 'this interminable rain' -- but Riley did not joke, not that way. His features set into stone and he found himself talking about something he did not usually dare utter.

"I found a girl in the woods recently." He was not sure he should be telling the phoenix this; the flames she cast were far and wide, and she might again think he (or Donovan) somehow had root in what transpired. "She.." He sucked in a big breath. "Someone did something to her. They -- he ..." The yearling helplessly trailed off, unable to say the word rape; his aunt had never said it outright... How had she phrased it? The memory was foggy and he struggled to grasp it. "She was too young." My mom was too young. His tone turned to grit. "I hate men like him. I hate wolves like my aunt. Hardened. Mean. I hate arrogance. I hate cruelty, I hate most of the world, I hate your queen --" Here he tipped back his head, feeling the ugly emotion control him. "I hate being told what to do, or what I am -- I don't even know who I am, how can someone tell me that?"

Orlaith looked at him in confusion, trying to piece together. She could feel her back bristle in a rage, with a fire to her face, "Despicable," she commented. It was quite easy when he said 'he,' and 'too young,' she was smart enough to get that much together. It can only be assumed someone touched a young wolf, in ways that she should not have been, "did you find him?"

Then he went on, looking like he hated the whole world. Though she wasn't sure why he hated Lumiya, as in general the Queen hasn't done anything in particular to him, she has done the most damage. He held quite a lot of hate, far more then her own flames, "You don't know who you are?" Though that part in particular, confused her.

"Aren't you, just Riley?" He never properly introduced himself, but it wasn't needed when Donovan gave him a scolding. Orlaith has never been confused about her indentity, she knew who she was. A warrior, one of flames and smoke, a fine wolf; and what she preferred to call herself, a Sovereign. Never once, would she question herself.

No. Riley responded, tone dull with disappointment. He'd hoped to track down the defiler, or to hear some howl from the man named Mal -- but his injuries had now claimed most of his energies, and Riley had spent the last several days lingering by this cave. 

As far as his contempt, the Queen had earned it by her presumptuous command that they leave the entire valley. Riley disliked being told what to do, and disliked arrogance and possessiveness over neutral things even more; in a way his hide had been more rankled by that meeting than by the first day he'd met Orlaith. 

He was confused by the phoenix's statement. Was not 'being' more than a name? Pausing, Riley's mind clicked and whirred over several responses before he selected the one that made most sense to him. Yes I am Riley. But that's just one of my names. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't define me. Who am I, or you? You say I am a Saint, but that doesn't define me either. I used to be Easthollow, but what does that mean? I've always existed outside of the fringes. Outside, looking in. His voice twisted in anguished confusion, and the yearling fell to silence with an unsettled frown.

"You have a lot of uncertainties despite being a yearling." She was amazed at how much worries he seemed to have. Orlaith, being of simple-minded, didn't think too hard on such subjects. She actually grew a bit dazed on his whole speech and had to momentarily digest it to provide some kind of answer.

"Others gonna define you, but you need to at least know yourself," she shrugged, "I call myself a warrior, and that's how others see me. Not as a fairy, but a guard to the court." Thinking about it, she supposed not too many counted her as a fae-folk, despite directly being born. It was her birth-right to be called a fire-fae. Anyone who said otherwise would be wrong, but she was never one to defend that title.

"So you some kind of.. Stalker?" Since he just watching, kinda seems so.

Orlaith’s assessment of Riley didn’t much help his confidence. Uncertainty was just a way of life for the yearling — he had left home woefully young, was still very inexperienced, and no road he had ever taken had been smooth or kind to him.

He shrugged off the comment, unable to respond to it. Thinking of himself as how others defined him, Riley wondered what images truly came to mind. When he looked at Orlaith, it was not just warrior he saw — it was bathsheba, it was Amazonian, it was battle-axe, firestrife. A whole litany of words which showed strongly as mental images in his mind. Not just warrior. Certainly not fairy.

Blinking back the slow realization she had called him a stalker, Riley’s brow furrowed. A dark line appeared on his brow as he worked through his response. I didn’t stalk you. Indignation colored his words, and he cast Orlaith a surly look. Had he stalked Esme? Is that really, truly what he was? I don’t care for that response. Riley huffed, gaze hardening as he looked to the steely skies and their endless rain.

"No shit, i'd beat your ass if you did." Her senses were quite keen, she doubted the other could skulk in the background to the point Orlaith wouldn't notice. She didn't think he was stalking her, but how he described, kinda grew into some of the habits. Maybe that's why he was such an odd yearling.

"Listen," the flame sighed, "what are you going to do now? I for one, going down the mountains eventually." Orlaith had no intention to laying in the flatlands to the east, as that was the way the court faced. Orlaith didn't want the chance to meet any of the fae's, as they would especially roam in that area, or within the mountains. She had a desire to go west, a less chance to see any there.

Perhaps a new beginning, somewhere. Anywhere, but here. Yet, she couldn't do that yet, as the rain seemed to never end.

In another world or another life, where there were no Saints or faeries, promiscuous killers and courtsmen, Riley and Orlaith might have gotten along. Were it not for Esme and Riley's insistence on finding her, he might have shrugged off his responsibility to the Saints, and agreed to follow Orlaith then and there.

But only one shadow would go down the mountainside that day, and it would not be Riley's.

Forgetting she had just mentioned beating his ass, Riley looked to the east where he presumed she had come from. "I'm going to sit here for a while, and then find Esme." Find Esme had become his only reason for getting up in the morning. "Why are you going down the mountain?" What good was out there, except the Donovans and Lumiyas of the world? Riley had enough of both, and would remain here in this stony crag for a long, long time.

"Who is Esme? You keep mentioning them," and Orlaith was generally sick and also curious about them. Even when he was pissing in her willows, he kept mentioning her. Even now, he mentions her constantly. She could only assume it was someone obviously close to him, due to this obsession.

"I dont want to see anybody from the court, especially Lumiya." Since the eastern mountains were generally near their domain, it was easy to leave the peaks. She adored Sunspire, and maybe there would be a day she could rightfully come back, but at the moment, Orlaith wanted to leave the fairies behind.

After Orlaith's inquiry about Esme, Riley was silent for a while. Configuring the best answer took time, but it also was a surprise to him Orlaith felt he had mentioned her -- was he overthinking her so much that the very name of her was slipping unbidden from his tongue?

The boy was troubled by this. "She is a friend." It was a good thing his fur was dark so Orlaith could not see the blush of shame that pressed his cheeks. Esme was no friend of Riley's, but he was fixated on her - and for more reasons than what went on in his garters. Every waking thought was Esme. Possibly every dream, though Riley didn't recall what he dreamt each night.

Regarding Lumiya and the mountains, Riley just shrugged. Orlaith could pave her own way, and he suspected she would do it with metaphorical fire -- any wolf that resolved to stand in her way would be cut down, by tooth or claw. "Maybe you head south. Follow the mountain ranges to the meadows, and go east until you see stones in a valley. Easthollow is there." Riley's gut twisted as he thought of his "family" -- oh yeah, those were quotation marks around "family" -- because had anyone even gone and looked for him that day he ran away? He never heard Laurel, or Valette, or Greyback call for him.. So, some family they were. "You can tell them Riley sent you." Orlaith didn't know it, but that was as close as a fuck you to Easthollow that the yearling could get.

Orlaith said no more about this 'Esme,' as it was an adequate answer. She shrugged, not asking any further about it so. Thinking about it, she doesn't know if she had 'friends,' to say. Her duty was the most important, and didn't count anyone close, more just acquaintances then anything else. The wolf, wondered why she so attatched.

"I'll think about it, anywhere away from the court," didn't want to think about them, didn't want to meet them, "exploring choices." She knew there was a few packs down that she could check up on, and if nothing seems worth it, might as well seek out Easthollow. Them too? Well, maybe the world just says she has to rise onto her own throne.

Riley didn't have friends either, though that didn't bother him much. He'd mostly floated through life without support, and he was okay (ish) so far -- so why did he need friends now?

He supposed Esme could be a friend, but she had been unkind to him. He supposed that was just normal - that people were always going to treat him this way, and that was his lot in life. And if that's what friends were for, well, good riddance.

He glanced down the mountain-range where the rain fell in misty sheets, and pulled down foggy particulates of clouds with them. Orlaith hadn't left him with much to reply on - mostly because he wasn't ever a good conversationalist. He nodded; her answer was adequate, and now silence save for the raindrops reigned between them.

The two fell into silence, as their conversation seemed to ended. Though she definitely saw him in a different out-look, despite the fact he did piss on her previous territory, it was somewhat hard to overlook, but if she saw it in another perspective it could've been funny. If it wasn't her fucking territory, anyway. 

She followed his sight, watching the endless raindrops come forth. It seemed like the rain was neverending, and all they could do, was hide away and watch together. To others an odd combination, as once enemies, now simple mutuals keeping themselves dry.