Larksong Grotto defuse your private bomb

To claim that Týrr wasn't aware that he was being watched would be a lie because the women of his garrison had made it abundantly clear that they would never be far, but whom was tasked with keeping an eye with him and how close they were flew under his radar, mostly because it was inevitable and he accepted it, albeit with some exasperation. After all, a bunch of woman keeping tabs on him as if he were nothing more than a small child that needed the supervision was off putting; and Týrr was no child. He was a man grown, though he had nothing to show for it. No mate. No children, nothing more than a lusting heart which did him literally no good. It wasn't as if he was particularly short on the opposite sex, considering at his point he was the only male to be apart of Frostfire Ridge ...or rather the pre-pack because they did not officially exist yet. Even so it was not a subject he could bring himself to breach with the Amazon's if only because it would make him feel lecherous and he wasn't so sure he wouldn't lose the very thing that made him a man by hinting about it; and they were still strangers to him. Or, rather, his missing memory made them strangers even if they weren't truly strangers.

Týrr recognized the yearling, and it took some searching for a few quiet moments, broken by Citali when she made her presence known, adding to Týrr's light jest by adding her own. The boy inquired as to what they'd said, and the Amazon Rekkr spared his medic a brief look as if to ask to whom the boy was asking. When Týrr 's attention returned to Tryphon, however, he found that the boy had returned to look at the water, mumbling something about afraid and water. “We've met once,” Týrr spoke to the boy, having remembered the name the boy had given to him during their brief first encounter. “Tryphon, right?” He inquired hoping he was right.