hit 'em right between the eyes!

Týrr wasn't sure if Tuwawi, Njal, or any of Jökull's siblings would be overtly thrilled that he was helping to stoke her ego but what was he supposed to say to the girl? It was decayed and was likely going to fall on it's own anyway or It's not living so technically you didn't kill it? Týrr had always prided himself on the fact that he, most of the time, wasn't rude, and her certainly wasn't going to crush her dreams. She was just a little girl, after all. I'll tell you what, you did a real number on this branch and I'd be preettyy scared, Týrr told her with a firm nod of his head, drawing out the word 'pretty' as if to emphasis it. He didn't want to tell her that he thought she was absolutely adorable because, given what he had seen so far of her ego, he rather thought that she would enjoy being called 'adorable'. Just because she was small and young now didn't mean she would stay that way forever, and when her puberty hit he could tell that she'd likely be just as fierce as she thought she was for real. It felt a little awkward to try to imagine her as a woman and so Týrr let out a small cough and diverted his eyes glimpsing at the sky for a moment, until she spoke to him once more, introducing herself, proving that he was right in who he had thought she was. It's nice to officially meet you, Jökull, Týrr couldn't help the smile that had begun to tug at the corners of his lips. He didn't consider their first meeting, when she'd ran into the back of his leg an “official” meeting despite that it was quite memorable for the young Rekkr.

Yeah, The teenager said with a laugh at her question. Show me what you can do, He encouraged, shifting himself into a defensive posture, crystalline eyes trained on the Sveijarn girl as she began to...well it looked like she was dancing to the Nýeldur as she moved jerkily and barrel rolled; a barrel roll brought her close to him and on his own instinct Týrr ghosted back a step, more caught up in the sashay of her movements, which was not something he'd witnessed before as far as training for combat went to notice that she was gaining on the small bit of ground his ghosting step backwards had gave him. Her movements reminded him of a King Cobra in it's trace like state, swaying — just like the King Cobra he had likened her too she struck, quickly, her teeth finding purchase upon his bicep. Týrr winced and drew in a sharp breath both of surprise and at the pain of her sharp teeth as they made contact, his nerves screaming at him to detach her from him. Good, The Rekkr grunted at her in praise looking down his muzzle at her, waiting for her to, hopefully, let go of him. That little uh, dance was effective. He fumbled for the words, feeling that he needed to praise what had distracted him, knowing that it probably meant he wasn't quite the warrior he had fancied himself as.

Some small corner of Týrr's mind wandered as he considered that with the right training — better left to her parents than him, admittedly — it wasn't going to be her father or brothers that eager teenage boys would have to worry about, but rather Jökull herself and almost laughed at the mental image that came with it, but stopped himself short of letting it burst out. Instead, he attempted to refocus his attention where it belonged: in the present.