She had spent the greater part of a day navigating the jutting shoal -- the spires of gneiss and granite rose like shark's teeth over the rocky promontory and the slab had been incredibly difficult to navigate. She was surprised then, when she saw Arrow Lake so close -- and with a joyous reburst of effort she shoved off, dropping catlike from stone to stone until she at last was rewarded by cool sand and soft, lapping water.
Týrr did not try to stray too far from Duskfire Glacier now that they were an actually established pack ...not that he had done too much straying after he had pledged his loyalty to Tuwawi, accepting the fire kissed woman's invitation before it was established. He had done some traveling if only because staying in the territory without the presence of others, despite that he had kept himself rather busy ensuring that the few caches he had begun to make were full. He kept checking on them even though there were others contributing to them and making more caches in preparation for the oncoming winter. Already, the days were cooling off and the nights were colder still. Fall had reached the Teekon Wilds and winter was just a beat around the corner. Soon, Týrr knew that the leaves on the trees that died in the months of the Harvest would begin to turn — brilliant and vibrant colors even though it suggested of death. Death and with Spring would come the rebirth of the world around them. Herds would begin to migrate soon, as well and their prey would become sparse as would their other resources.
The world around them had not yet reached that point, which gave them a month or three to prepare for the oncoming winter but it would not be long. Despite that Týrr knew he should have been working on the caches, or running a patrol he had slipped out of the Glacier's borders early in the morning heading towards the Sunspire. Not the actual territory itself — Týrr knew it was claimed and had no desire to cause himself to interact with Ferdie or Jace. He altered course to head down to Arrow Lake where he had taken the liberty of a bath and was currently sprawled upon the bank in a patch of sunlight, allowing it to dry his fur out.
The young Rekkr did not notice the ebony woman, having given the impression of a light nap, eyes closed against the warmth of the sun as it warmed each tendril of chocolate colored fur. Peaceably unaware that there was another within the vicinity.
He had, thus far, been blissfully unaware of her presence and this brought an ugly smirk to her muzzle. It meant had she been hostile she could have overtaken him -- and it also meant, to some extent, that the bland and monotonous colored scullion was well masked by the erupted slate that stood beside her. She studied his coloring -- to an extent it reminded her deeply of Suttree -- handsome shades of layered russet tapered off by unremitting and swallowing black. But this wolf was not Suttree -- and Caiaphas, prickly as ever, watched him coldly and kept her distance.
There was a huff, catching Týrr off guard with it's suddenness, abruptly giving way to the should have been obvious fact that he was not alone, and alerting the young Rekkr his presence within her vicinity was unwelcome, if the contempt that the huff carried was of any indication (it was). Earthen brows rose some as he let her sound register and settle between them, daring to peek in her direction after a few moments of staring into the water, his eyes having sprung open upon her initial noise. She was draped in dark colors that blended in well with the backdrop around her, though now that he had been made aware of her presence he had to wonder wearily and wryly how he had not noticed her before. Especially when he was going for Warden as his secondary trade. The answer of how he had failed to notice her was painfully obvious in it's blaring intensity — Týrr had not been playing as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been. Aloof wasn't something he would have ever considered himself if because it described a deep airiness that he did not have. He had been...distracted, was all. Even then, he should have afforded some more attention to what was going on around him.
He could have very well paid the price for it. Maybe that was still a possibility, Týrr considered as he watched her, eyeing him coolly, unwilling, it seemed, to close the distance between them. Týrr took her coldness to mean that she did not appreciate his intrusion. For a small moment, Týrr half had a mind to apologize for intruding but thought better of it within the next. After all, this territory was unclaimed land and therefore he had ever right to be there — just as much as she did and it wasn't exactly in his nature to grovel. Týrr did not beg. Not to her and not to anyone — not even to Ragnar. Hello,
The Nýeldur spoke to her, breaking the frigid silence between them. Whether or not she decided to indulge him in conversation was her own choice.
Despite the arctic welcome she gave him he seemed friendy enough - slyly she pulled herself from the embankment and rose to a predatory trot, circling around the cold water bank in his direction. As she came to a close she dropped to an ambling walk and met him squarely with her sovereign muzzle held in the manner of some proud hyena gaunt and unafraid. "Who are you?" She spoke.
For a long stretch of many moments Týrr was left to wonder if they would continue their game of 'Don't blink' as they stared at the other, or if she would take his greeting as it was. An invitation. The choice was hers, of course, to decide what it was she wanted to do with it. All Týrr could do was watch and wait. Týrr watched her rise and circle the water as she approached him, his eyes following her, weary of her body language. He, too, pushed himself to his paws to meet her, not wanting to allow the vulnerability that came with him lying casually, sprawled out as he had been in attempts to dry his fur. He felt only slightly more at ease standing at attention before her as she moved brazenly forth, unafraid. Shoulders squared beneath damp chocolate brown fur, adopting something of a statue posture as her question left her lips and tickled the Rekkr's ears, which had cupped forth to catch her words before they faded into the silence that filled the space between them in the wake of her voice.
I am Týrr,
He told her, on a simple, 'ask and you shall receive' basis. If she wished to know anything else about him, he assumed that she would ask.
He gave her his name: she weighed the resonance behind it -- the inflection in the word that gave it great Norse weight and importance. She instinctively cast a look to his right paw as if to ascertain it were indeed there -- and a wry, knowing look overcame her dark muzzle. "Tyr, son of Odin -- whose right hand sits a-rot in Fenrisulfr's viscera -- felled by Garmr, the black rag." The words quelled forth and to an outsider she may have looked harridan and mad -- quibbling with relish the bygone gods and their fates.
"But you have your right paw, and I see no blackened cur yet." She rejoined sharply, a lopesided grin cast askance across her narrow muzzle.
The weight of her gaze upon his skin as she studied him, seemingly unabashed, was not heavy so much as it was like fire, sending prickling twinges along his nerves, the sixth sense of obviousness that told him what he already consciously knew — he was being watched. Studied. Like he was some kind of odd specimen put on display in a museum. If Týrr had been a different type of creature, harbored a different personality he might have asked her just as brazenly if she liked what she saw since she was taking such liberties, but he wasn't and so the question never formed into words past the cognitive recces of his mind. That was something his father would have said, but Týrr was not Ragnar, and they were no more alike than an eagle and a raven. The Rekkr watched as her golden gaze went down to his right paw quickly, and instinctively, he barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering the stories of his namesake, even before she began to recite the basics of the God Týr.
Týrr had never understood why Ragnar had deemed it necessary to name him after a God, of all things, but it wasn't as if it was anything that Týrr could help. It wasn't like he could just change his name, even if he could he wasn't sure that he would. The name 'Týrr' had been his for as long as he could remember and it was a part of him, just as much as say, his heart was. I am not the God,
Týrr responded despite that he felt redundant pointing out something that she could plainly see for herself. I only share his name and that was not of my own doing.
He had often wondered how pompous Ragnar had to be to name a son after a God, how bold and arrogant, taking part of a God's name was not uncommon but using just a God's name? It was bound to have some sort of repercussion, or perhaps it wouldn't. It didn't seem that the Rekkr had done anything to upset his namesake yet. What is your name?
Týrr turned her question back to her, assuming, boldly by her little statement of facts about the God Týr that she, too, was a Northerner.
She wondered, perhaps idly, who it was that had indoctrinated the dark male with such a prestigious name -- she knew few wolves who boasted such glorious namesakes and none, as far as she was concerned, had yet to live up to their moniker's aspirations. "Who was that?" She asked sweetly, casting a look about her as if what she was about to say next bore great secrecy and reckoning. "I'm Caiaphas. I didn't chose that name either. But my dad, as Norse as he believed he was, was not so presumptuous." She added in somewhat gentle sarcasm, as if it were uncommon for wolves to be named by someone other than themselves. It occurred to her that her name was often misleading -- her family, as a whole, had divested a wide variety of names that were more personal than religion could offer, and to an outsider, her origins were not readily apparent.
Týrr watched her reaction to his very obvious statement with stoic eyes, not sure that he trusted her. She reminded him of some deviant creature, slippery like oil, cunning as a venomous snake poised to strike him at any moment. Týrr was not sure what it was about the woman that gave him those particular feelings, and though it was hardly unfair for his gut feelings to paint her in such a light when, in reality, he knew nothing of her, it did not change the fact that she made him feel uneasy. Not that the Rekkr had any intention of letting her clue into that fact. She asked him sweetly “who was that”, a sickeningly sweet tone that he truly didn't trust; though it was for the sake of not appearing ignorant that he did not respond to it right away. Týrr wasn't entirely sure if she had thought that she had seen someone or if she was inquiring who it was that had given him such a burdensome name. Because Týrr had not seen anyone, not even a shadow, contented that they were quite alone here he took the leap of faith that she had been inquiring about his name. My father,
He responded simply, shrugging his shoulders as if to say 'that it something that the God should take up with him'.
Something our fathers do not have in common, it would appear,
It was redundant, of course, for she could very well figure it out for herself. He shifted his gaze to the landscape around them, out of habit more so than anything else before it fell back upon his strange coy companion. Do you belong to a pack around here?
She scented of many wolves and yet of none in specific and Týrr was not so pompous as to assume. Perhaps her case was similar to his own with Duskfire Glacier. He had pledged his loyalty and hung around the lands that Tuwawi and Njal had intended to claim while they returned to Swiftcurrent Creek to make their final preparations. Their scent had clung to him but it wasn't strong enough to have made him easily identifiable as a pack wolf at that time, either.
She turned her neck slightly and looked over her shoulder, peering at the wolf she had just departed close company with. The lake wrapped between them and the shore lapped quietly, not too far from her splindly paws. "I do not. I am out here, foraging if you will, or discovering -- whichever word sounds more exciting. What about you?"
She was still a distance away, but it was clear at this point she was not yet ready to quit his company.
Caiaphas moved away from him, giving Týrr the initial impression that she was tired of his company and that this was where they would part ways. Strangers that knew the name of the other and nothing more. The chocolate colored Rekkr could not say that he would have been overly disappointed by that for he found her to be unusual and was unable to make any sort of concrete decision upon her on whether she was someone that he wanted to stay clear of or not. He watched her climb, ending up a bit away from him. For a second, Týrr expected her not to respond to his question and hid his surprise when she did respond quickly so that it did not show upon his face. Yes,
He responded simply, It's a pack a couple days trek from her called Duskfire Glacier. The best part is we're a newer pack.
To Týrr that was a big enough appeal — had been part of his initial appeal to Tuwawi's invitation. Not all of it, but the promise of being apart of something that was much bigger than just himself had been something that he had not been able to pass up on.
He mentioned the pack was new and she sharply looked up, new interest forging undivided attention. "Newer? Your numbers must be small." Deftly, she scrambled up the backside of the slab and trotted loftily around the bank until she came full circle and was once more several feet from him, her breath curling in the crisp air.
"How many are there?"
They conversed then, quietly exchanging pleasantries as each investigated the small crooks and holes. Their exchange was short, but Caiaphas was glad to have met him -- despite her initial displeasure at having her solitude interrupted.
Eventually they both paused from their investigations of the treasured and secluded grove -- and at length each offered their own farewells and Caiaphas, dark-masked and brooding, set back towards the strand to bear the news of her most recent conquest.