Týrr watched with natural caution as the ivory colored woman's ears rose as the sound of his chuff traversed through the silence between them, interrupting it. There was a small second, sempiternal though it had been as the woman turned away from the lake she'd been drinking from to face him in which the Rekkr had felt his body give way to a physical pause, a small recoil that he played off smoothly in the next milla-second by giving his front paw a quick shake, dispelling small fractals of snow as if he'd stepped in a pile that was deeper than he had originally intended it to be. In truth, it was no such thing. It had been the woman's eyes that had struck that small moment within Týrr. He wasn't afraid of them — there was little that the Rekkr did fear these days — rather they unnerved him. The crimson color they bore had a strong resemblance to blood and while Týrr was, by no means, squeamish from it, simply they were unnatural. It was not a color meant to belong in the irises of wolves. Yet, here she was. Týrr's first thought was that she was a witch — some practitioner of blood magic. If such a thing truly existed or not the Rekkr could not claim. He did not remember enough of the Amazon culture he'd been born into to know if they believed in such things, and it sounded like something that the Northmen would believe in.
Nevertheless, Týrr did not allow his attention to linger there. There was no way to figure out what she truly was, and a very likely chance that she was just a regular, mortal wolf like himself. There was no evidence to suggest otherwise, and having an unnatural eye color meant little. The woman's greeting was polite enough, accented with a small bob of her head, Týrr noticed and for a long second, Týrr was quiet, gathering his thoughts as crystalline blue eyes flashed to her once more, assessing that she was no danger to him. It had been the scent of Duskfire Glacier that had drawn him in, at any rate, which meant she, however temporarily, called the Glacier he had helped in finding as home. Idly, Týrr wondered if she even knew that without him the Glacier might have never came to be. In truth, the Rekkr was not aware of how pivotal or important his own role was but he liked to think he played one of some importance. Hello,
The Rekkr breathed in response his voice accented even still, willing enough to play at polite. Besides, it couldn't hurt to get on the good side of those that now called the Glacier home, especially if he hoped to usurp Malachi some day — providing Tuwawi did not wish for her rightful throne back. That was, if he was even allowed back in among their ranks.
I am Týrr. Týrr Nýeldur.
Though his name bore no significance except his own at the current moment it would one day, he was determined.
a crime so old as the sky and bone