Granted, she could easily just side step him if she really wanted too, and Týrr had already decided in that small cluster of seconds that passed as his action was observed by his nameless companion if she did side step him that he would not stop her. He couldn't stop her from going to the Glacier's borders if she truly wanted to go there, but that didn't mean she would be rid of him. He had no intentions to cease following her until he made absolute sure that her intentions at the Glacier were not harmful. Ironic, that. If his ebony company was bothered by his action, Týrr did not see it, though it might have very well stemmed from the fact that he didn't very much care. He cared about the safety of Duskfire Glacier despite that he was no longer in their ranks. It was still his home, and he would take no other, though for a brief time he had tried (and ultimately failed) to move on from these Wilds — though he had left his Guardswoman Manaiua behind to do so. In the end, it seemed the Amazon woman was right not to follow him: he'd came back. Yet, Týrr had needed the space; needed the open air and the loneliness to reflect upon what was truth and what was false in his life. His identity still baffled him and if he thought about it too much served to give him a dull ache in his head that warned him not to continue digging through the shrouded memories, echoing and see through as they were. He was Tezcacoatl but he wasn't. He was Týrr but he wasn't. He was both of them, the best of both cultures but neither of them, at the same time.
Her answer was no, and Týrr picked up on the tension, the junction between his shoulders tightening and tensing in response as his crystalline eyes studied her again, taking her in. You could have just said that to begin with,
It wasn't that Týrr was ignorant, or unintelligent. It was simply that he was suspicious, and did not trust anyone's words with particular ease. That was Ragnar's doing, a side effect from all the lies Týrr had been fed. The worst part was the coward himself couldn't even face him man to man and tell him. No, it had to come from Ragnar's newest lay. Just one in a long line of them. It made the Rekkr wonder what kind of lies Ragnar was feeding her, though she was none of Týrr's concern. He didn't care about her. Or him. Of their crumbling family. Ragnar would bring them to destruction, too. Ragnar deserved nothing less than a coward's death, and perhaps Týrr would be the one to give it to him as compensation for lying to him, for stealing everything that the Rekkr had once loved and held precious from him.
Ragnar Lodbrok's day would come. In time. Currently, Týrr had more pressing issues.
Týrr's question was turned upon him then, and for a long moment the Rekkr was silent. He did not know this female — didn't even know her name. He hardly thought it wise to be telling her things, especially since they did not concern her. In time, perhaps I will,
Týrr responded vaguely unsure if he could trust her and thus settling for the assumption that he couldn't. I'm Týrr. Týrr Nýeldur.
He offered her an introduction next, hoping to steer the conversation off of his possible business with the Glacier.
a crime so old as the sky and bone