There was silence for a while, likely while Thistle debated if he had any right to know what family drama was happening within the borders of Stavanger Bay. He might not have been a member of the Bay but he had been a member of Ragnar's family longer than her by all technicalities and anything that was going on with Ragnar was Týr's business; however, the Rekkr did not feel like arguing with her over it. She blatantly told him that she refused to speak of it, and though it left him with a slight swell of irritation — if something happened to his father he had an equal right to know — he let it go out of cordial politeness. He offered her a smile though the corners of his lips were tight. Very well,
He would figure it out eventually, whether she told him or he had to step around her. He would approach his father if need be, or someone else that would know in Stavanger Bay.
Týr glimpsed down at Tveir when the boy pushed up against his chin, batting at his paws, body bowing with an open invitation to play. It had been quite some time since Týr had played and even with the boy glimpsing up at him with eager eyes he was not sure he remembered how to play. His mind was clouded with what was happening with Ragnar and he glimpsed up at Thistle Cloud for a moment before his eyes flickered down to Tveir. How old are you?
It could have been said that Týr was Ragnar's son but his obsession with proving himself to Ragnar and the Gods to remember what it was like to be a child.
a crime so old as the sky and bone