Týrr was not interested in hearing excuses as to why Ragnar had not appeared, and why Thistle Cloud had arrived in his wake, despite that, in reality, she hadn't been making excuses for him. The use of word 'Your Father' did not quite fit in with the illusion shattering truth that was staring him in the face. A truth that he did not know what to do with. How could he be Tezcacoatl? He didn't have memories of that, had no memories but the ones that Floki and Ragnar had given to him. So, who was he? Was he Tezcacoatl? Or was he Týrr? Was he both of them or neither of them? He didn't know. All Týrr understood in that moment was that he was drowning in confusion, and trying to force himself to remember something that everyone was telling him, all of the sudden, that he was, was making his head pound with a headache. This was the last thing he had needed, especially right after the fact that he had finally decided who he was, who he wanted to be. And now this. Thistle had taken his small measure of confidence and security within him and ripped the seams wide apart. All those months of work, of searching, of the epiphany of Nýeldur gone in a mere matter of seconds with a small, harmless question. Except, it hadn't been harmless.
Týrr ignored Thistle Cloud's statement about telling Manauia off, or the fact that she told the Amazon woman that she would have to go through her to get to him. Obviously, she didn't because she had found Týrr, and it wasn't like, with this new knowledge, she was really his family. As far as he knew, Ragnar wasn't even really his father. What the hell?
The vulgar word burst from Týrr's lips ...the first and (hopefully) last time he would ever use such a word. Týrr was rarely vulgar and he didn't enjoy being vulgar because vulgarity clashed horribly with his refined mannerisms he had always prided himself upon. Why? What were they afraid of? Why did they have to lie to me? Why couldn't they just tell me I was Tezcacoatl and let me go back to my real family? Where I had an entire fucking guard of women looking for me and a mother who loves me, and has sent my guard out to move heaven and earth to find me?
It wasn't Thistle Cloud's fault and Týrr wasn't blaming her but she was the barer of bad news, she had opened Pandora's box and now she was in the cross hairs of Týrr's confusion and the pain of the betrayal.
Just...stop! Please, stop,
It bothered him, without any sort of explanation, that she was talking about Quetzalcoatl how she was — like he was just a pawn, like he was no better than any other male to them, that the title of Prince was only that: a title. She didn't know Quetzalcoatl ...though in truth, he didn't either. I have no father,
How could he continue to think of Ragnar as such when everything Ragnar had ever told him was a lie? I don't know if I am Tezcacoatl or Týrr or if I am someone else entirely,
Talk about an identity crisis. but I guess it doesn't really matter. This complicates, huh, everything but it doesn't change what I came here for.
She could tell Ragnar, or she didn't have too. Týrr didn't care anymore, knowing that the only wolves that he could trust were the wolves of Duskfire Glacier and Fox at this point in his life.
a crime so old as the sky and bone