The Sunspire I see fire, burning the trees,

sorry for the shadowpost! this should be all set <3

So the phoenix conceded she did not know him, following in that same breath with a heated allegation that to Riley, felt like the probing end of an accusatory hot-poker. He kept his posture, though once again he felt the singe of injustice rise up in him like bile.

He wanted to lob it all back in her face. To scream into her self-righteous, beautifully fire-framed face -- I AM NOT ONE OF THEM! I AM NOT I AM NOT I AM NOT! I AM WANTED I AM LIVING I AM DESERV--

But what did it matter? He didn't have the energy, and he would never win in a fight against her. She was every bit his superior; she could cut his throat right then and there. His blood would arc and spill like a gurgling red torrent down the pristine stones, and no one would know.

No one would know, because he was unwanted.

"I was not part of that. I don't even know what you're talking about!" Riley insisted thickly, feeling like he might cry, scream, and throw up in the same time. He just wanted Esme. Esme with her barbed tongue and her stranger-savvy and her coaxing, effervescent touch. Esme would have known what to say. Esme wouldn't have let this woman treat him like he was a pile of dogshit she had to lug around on the bottom of her heel forever.

Riley failed to see how it was funny, but at this point, he'd spent more time with Orlaith than he had with any other member of the Saints besides Derg. He didn't think Derg was bad -- he certainly didn't believe Derg was capable of anything Orlaith accused him of.

You deserve nothing! Riley felt a choking sensation tremor up his throat. He felt rage's soot-filled, foul fingers stroke his temper. He wanted to stagger to his feet and attack this insufferable,  awe-inspiring bitch for the way she cruelly dug into him, but he would be killed in an instant. He knew when he was outmatched.

There was no question. Riley breathed heavily through his nose in a long sigh and placed his paws on his tired, road-chewed feet. It was beginning to become clear to Riley that life was an uphill climb and he would never reach the summit, much less enjoy the view.

Maybe it was better she killed him.  He was unwanted, after all. It was not like his mother would come crawling up this climb to sob over his corpse, and Esme probably would find some other dullard to shepherd along. He was just a tumbleweed through life, and everyone was always looking for the next best thing to come along after him.

Riley knew he was defeated and so waited for the strike to fall. He kept his gaze firmly planted on a boulder to the side -- he refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was scared. Stifling the flinch that threatened to show as he saw a shadow step over him, Riley tensed for the blow -- only to hear another voice in the mix.

He looked up incredulously, feeling dwarfted by the alabaster presence of a she-wolf unrecognizable to him. Riley had met few of the Saints, but this wolf boasted of the redsand's unmistakably arid bouquet. Sullenly the boy looked to Orlaith, expecting she would react poorly to the arrival of unexpected backup.