The Tangle I Am Machine

The playfulness of the meeting was abated with an abruptness that instinctively made the Amazon Prince weary of his companion. He recognized the change in atmosphere and prepared himself for hostility. Týrr, however, was not so readily shaken, not nearly as fearful as he perhaps should have been. Cautious, yes, but scared? No. Neither the Amazon nor the Viking within him would so easily bow to fear, nothing more than a deception and ploy of one's own mind. The young King did not even offer a flinch when she growled at him, swearing at him. “No,” No,she did not look like she cared. “But that doesn't mean you shouldn't care what it is. It's an important name.” And he would have it spoken upon the tongues of every wolf in these Wilds, some day. It was only a matter of which name he desired to hear spoken. Tezcacoatl or Týrr. His success would exceed Ragnar's own, though the Rekkr did not understand that he'd likely only made a martyr out of the Northerner within the ranks of Stavanger Bay. Not that he cared about the Bay, of course they all loved Ragnar. He had a way of worming himself into one's heart, but that love that Týrr had once felt had became nothing short of hatred at learning of the lies Ragnar had told him over the year.

“How was I to know you were actually sleeping? I didn't get close enough to discern that.” He gave pause here, licking his lips once. “Besides I had no idea if you'd wake up hostile if I was in your personal space and eat my face off,” The Rekkr did not fear death, but that did not mean he wanted to see himself to an early grave. He had not come so far to see it brought to an untimely end. “My name is Týrr, not Hannibal.” The Prince told her calmly, though at this point he had more or less written her off in regards to being a potential recruit. Her rapid mood change screamed instability to him, and though he was still young yet, he liked to believe he was sensible. Which was a shame because the Rekkr had enjoyed their initial banter.