Týr didn't want to carry on Ragnar's legacy, not really. They were big proverbial shoes to fill. He did not think it was too much to want his own legacy. Something to be apart of that was bigger than himself, but he knew he would first need to establish roots which was something that up until now he was not able to grow. It was trepidation that hindered him. A fear of planting roots, perhaps a significant amount of insecurity of not being good enough, not strong enough. Things that the young Rekkr needed to find out about himself on his own terms, at his own time. Eyes of crystalline blue focused on the pretty fire kissed woman before him — she had spoken that her name was Tuwawi — his body readjusting a neutral position that was respectful and partially submissive, smart enough to place the pieces together that she was might have been working on claiming this newly re-discovered lands.
It came as something of a surprise to hear the Njal had spoken highly of him to Tuwawi and a small smile graced the heathen prince's lips, surprised and gratuitous all the same. He glimpsed down at his chocolate colored paws at her question, thinking about his response to it. In reality, it was an easy response and he wished to be truthful with her. No,
Týr did not take the criticism of Haunter well and feared that Fox might punish him for abandonment. It was no less than he would have deserved. My father is in these Wilds further North but he has a new life and I do not wish to intrude upon it.
Týr gave a lofty shrug of his shoulders.
I am just a wanderer,
He knew he'd need those roots that they would play an essential and necessary role in the Ironside legacy but he had no idea of where he would plant them or, even, where to start.
a crime so old as the sky and bone