Seeing the Amazon smile, something that though Týrr had nothing to compare it too, felt was rather genuine. He got the feeling from the few meetings he'd had with Manauia that smiling was not something she did often — though he was not one to talk. Týrr could clearly remember the last time he'd smiled: when he was teaching Jökull to fight many months ago. Those memories felt like little more than a lifetime ago. Over the course of the past several months Týrr had done a lot of growing up, physically reaching his full stature and build as he hit his sexual maturity — the true passage into adulthood. He was ready for his destiny, as vastly unknown as it was. All Týrr knew was that he would carve his own path, that he would not follow in the footsteps of anyone else. He was the son of no one, he was no one's legacy but his own. Even if she told you too?
He was not sure how his command was any different than Quetzalcoatl's own, especially given that he assumed he had authority over the Huntress at the Reigning Queen's, of whom was not here, word.
The only conclusion that the Rekkr could come to as to why Manauia refused to acknowledge his rank in retrospect to hers was because he was a male, which brought about the internal question of: if he was a female would she have listened to him? Would she accept him as her superior?
Alas, Týrr was not a female — and quite glad for it even it meant that she would continue to operate out of the hierarchy, established as it was.
Týrr did not capitalize on the fact that considering he'd gotten captured and injured by the Northmen of Odinn's Cove that she and her “sisters” had failed on their job and wondered if perhaps that was not a reason as to why she had not returned to Coatl's Rise. I see,
The Rekkr mused quietly, inhaling deeply and exhaling, and settled for silence, curious as to if she would let their conversation drop or pick it up by diverting it to something else. Either way, it did not bother Týrr.
a crime so old as the sky and bone