Týrr was not ignorant of the girl's stare though for it did not, at first, sink in that she was admiring him as opposed to simply staring for the sake of it. The heat of her gaze was felt along the silken tendrils of fur along his spine, the prickling feeling that was his instinct's way of letting him know that her eyes were lingering. As far as Týrr was presently aware he was inexperienced in such things, though he supposed the real truth of if he was or was not was undetermined. He had no way of knowing what he had or hadn't done as Tezcacoatl. He had never really been around girls his age, though Fox came to his mind and his brief crush upon her. It was gone now. In it's place he was left smitten with Tuwawi, unintentional as it was. Týrr refused to feel guilt for what was once nothing more than innocent admiration manifest itself into something more for the ember. As enamored as he was, was no one's fault. Not his, not Tuwawi's. It had just happened, though admittedly, Týrr was doing nothing in attempts to snuff it; and likely he would continue to feel something towards her even if his feelings never ended up being reciprocated.
Even now, as the girl let out a stretched out 'damn', giving voice to her blatant admiration of his physical assets, the Rekkr could not enjoy the presence of the Bay girl in the same way. Not when another filled and fueled such thoughts as he seemed to for his mysterious companion. A small smirk tugged at the edges of the Rekkr's lips shortly after her enunciated 'yum' left her lips, however, appreciative nevertheless. He'd never given much thought to his physical assets or if he was “handsome” or not but obviously this girl thought he was, and he wondered if it would hurt to strut a bit, as a male peacock would fan out it's tail. There was no harm, surely, in flaunting and teasing a bit, was there?
Females had never been a main concern of the Rekkr who had wanted nothing more than to go on raids and to fight. In that warrior lifestyle there was no time for a woman, though many of the males balanced both a family and their duties as Berserkers; but Týrr had been young — too young to even have a family. That wasn't true anymore, and his priorities had shifted quite a bit as he continued upon his journey of (sometimes extremely painful) discovery as the truth tried to dig it's way free of whatever dark corner of his mind the amnesia had buried it in, and while Týrr acknowledged that there was only one that he wanted, even if she still considered herself taken, even if it was never meant to be; but in reality he had no commitments and no reason why he couldn't have some good ole' bad boy fun, though he doubted she knew what she was asking for with those words and the heedy stare she was giving him. The feral Nýeldur had no intentions of playing by the rules of the prim and proper prince he used to be. He was not honorable. He couldn't be — not with his desire to usurp Malachi, and not with his blatant disregard to the fact of what Njal might still be to Tuwawi though the male had abandoned her and the Glacier some time ago. Perhaps that was not how it was, but that was how Týrr interpreted it to be.
“Yeah?” Týrr murmured to her in a curious manner, ears cupping forth atop his skull as he ghosted forth a small measurement of distance. A thought occurred to Týrr then, dangerous in it's audacity but tempting all the same. For a small breadth of a moment he paused, asking himself a simple question in his mind: would he defy a god by defiling his name, by pretending to be him? “I'm Óðinn,” Yes, yes he would; plus it felt like a giant, nuclear 'f-you' to Ragnar in the process (to think the damage he could cause!) and it left Týrr with the feeling of empowerment; and it felt good. “What is your name?” The Rekkr asked her, giving her a charming grin.
a crime so old as the sky and bone