Malachi did not keep Týrr waiting for very long — a small boon in the profound grand scheme of the Rekkr's mind. At the very least, it could not be claimed that the pretend King was not timely. Crystalline gaze, accented by the sharp streaks of silver under each eye watched as the other male, relative as he was to Týrr's own age, carefully. There was a moment, brief though it was, when confusion struck Týrr as Malachi displayed not dominance but friendliness towards him, as if they were good, old childhood friends. In reality: neither likely knew all that much about the other, though in Týrr's case this was particularly true because at the time when he'd first met Malachi he hadn't even known who he was himself. In that quiver of a moment, only spanning the length of a singular heart beat, Týrr's resolve wavered ever so slightly before it steeled itself and his shoulders tensed as if he expected to be attacked though the other male's approach was very far from hostile. Týrr had not expected the welcome he'd received and taken off guard despite that his resolve had once more hardened, he was not sure how to proceed. He had expected hostility, an outright show of dominance and to not be given it left him scrambling in a way that made the Rekkr uncomfortable.
Instead of irritated, Malachi seemed genuinely happy to see him. Malachi,
Týrr responded in greeting as the other's steps came to a cease before him. The chocolate colored Rekkr's weight shifted slightly, stiffly in an attempt not to betray his own uncertainty. Yes,
Týrr spoke, though Malachi's words of 'you're back' had not been voiced as a question. Still, Týrr felt it necessary to cement the fact that he was back and he had no intentions of leaving; for better or for worse. It was a heavy thing — his unwillingness to leave. It was insistent and unwavering, and it, like his desire to see Duskfire Glacier restored the the glory that Tuwawi had made it, would not be ignored. Duskfire Glacier is my home.
Týrr added softly, but with conviction. He didn't say it, and did not feel that he had too, but his words implied that no matter where the winds took him he would always return; and if it's ruler would not have him then even still he would not stray too far.
a crime so old as the sky and bone