Somewhere along the line a light drizzle began out of seemingly no where, noticed only because of the pitter patter of it on the leaves and the cool kiss of each tiny droplet as it splashed upon his black, leathery nose. Confident of his isolation Týr let out a soft, barely audible discontented sigh as he spared a quick glimpse to the offensive monotone colored cloud that had decided to make the day miserable on top of being chilly. Miserable though it was, it remained surprising to Týr for none of the clouds in the sky had spoken of rain though he was, by no means, able to predict the weather. The steady rhythm of approaching footfalls upon the earth, softened by the melting snow and the current drizzle caused Týr’s ears to swivel into an alert position atop his skull, crystal bright blue eyes falling upon the other. There was a hairsbreadth of a moment as Týr studied the other, before he noted the way the other male’s tail was flipped high over his back in a blunt show of dominance, a manner in which Týr took an abrupt offence too. While it was likely true that the other male was higher in the ranks than Týr, whom was only a Lambda, the show was unnecessary, and distinctly reminded Týr of the way a leader would approach a loner or foreign wolf at the borders not the way a pack mate approached another, or so this was how Týr thought at any rate. The musk of the earth flooded the young Nord’s nostrils as they flared and he inhaled deeply, as he debated upon the other’s approach if he wanted to raise his voice to the matter or simply ignore it.
Or challenge him. It was in his blood, after all, the urgings for a battle, for spars - all of which Týr had been extensively trained for.
Though Týr knew his own culture held little to no weight here in these alien lands, it held all the weight in the world with him; however, Týr was not known for being impulsive and irrational, and he did not take the show of dominance as a challenge, if the male’s out of place friendly greeting was anything to go by. “The excessive show of dominance isn’t necessary,” Týr spoke peaceably, for the moment ignoring the introduction that was given to him. “To be honest, I find it insulting for I would have showed you respect regardless.” Týr’s voice was not accusatory, or harsh, for while he would not turn down a chance to rank challenge or spar he was still weary from his journey to the Teekon Wilds. For a serious moment, Týr considered leaving then and there and going about his way to fulfill the task that Fox had assigned to him upon his acceptance, however, his manners dictated differently. “I am Týr,” His given name slipped forth from betwixt his lips easily, like music to the Viking’s ears. “but everyone calls me Sveinn.” It was an affectionate term used by his father, but Týr suspected it caught on because it was easier to say.
a crime so old as the sky and bone