Before the identity crises, having no other words to use to describe the massive and altering changes to him, Týrr would have been much more gentlemanly than he was currently. He was polite, of course, for the moment, but he was not as courtly as he had once been known for. That part of him, weak as it had been, was gone and for the better the Rekkr could not help but think. It had allowed him to be taken advantage of, stepped on as if he were no more than a doormat; but he was more. He was a Prince and a warrior to boot, and he wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man grown now and it was high time he begun to act like it. He led the way, feeling a slight knot of unease in his stomach at having his back exposed to her, having lost his ability to trust quickly, though he blamed this solely upon Ragnar and his equally as deceiving newest harlot. No,
Týrr responded simply to her question, giving a small pause before his lips parted again, his breath snaking out from between them a small plume of white steam. I come from a place much further North than this,
.
a crime so old as the sky and bone