Ever since the head had been left upon their doorstep and the chaos that had ensued at the meeting directly after, settled by Tuwawi's abrupt rise to her throne once more, Týrr did his civic duty to his pack and ran patrols numerous times a day. He'd earned the journeyman trade of Chronicler and for now it was enough for him, allowing him to move onto the one that had now, more than ever, became important: warden. He had intended to go for it anyway but this threat had forced his hand into pursuing it quicker than he had originally intended too. There was nothing like a death threat and the looming point of the axe of war over their heads to cause him to make a spontaneous decision. With Tuwawi once more upon her rightful throne the Rekkr found that he was soothed though o nly a little. Discord and unrest still roiled in him like a storm out at sea, collecting strength from the near constant turmoil of the sea. He did not know if a scout had been sent to investigate his claims regarding Stavanger Bay or not, though he would be surprised to learn that someone hadn't went yet given Tuwawi's fierce desire to see Larus safely returned to her. On that, he could not and did not blame her. He was not a father and did not know the love of a parent in that sense; though in all fairness he did not truly know a love of a parent from the child's sense, either. He could not remember Quetzalcoatl or how his mother had loved him (if she'd loved him), and the notion that Ragnar had ever loved him was scoffed at quickly by Týrr who understood he was nothing more than a pawn in Ragnar's end game and that if the Northerner had truly loved him then he wouldn't have lied about everything.
Týrr would have volunteered for the job but his connection to the Bay, as embarrassing as it was, was too close despite that he wanted nothing to do with them; despite that he had every intention of killing Ragnar Lodbrok. He held no love for them, though no true grudge against it's members aside from Ragnar's family. It had been too easy to appease the Bay girl though, to twist her evident attraction to him to his own devices. He did not like the idea of hurting the innocent to get to the guilty, but he had to send subtle hints to Ragnar in some way. Play with the cunning Viking's mind, to get under his skin. Claiming to be the God, the all mighty All-Father, felt like a good way to do it, at the time. Fear was a weapon, and the Rekkr knew that out of everything in the world he could fear, Ragnar feared that his devotion to Odinn would not be enough and that he might lose the All-Father's favor. He saw no harm in playing the charming “date”, though admittedly it had been the Rekkr's first time at doing anything of the such. It was a learning experience and a message to Ragnar all in one neat, convenient little package. Perhaps he should have felt guilt, and maybe he did somewhere deep inside of him, that he had so blindly taken advantage of someone who had a crush on him ...likely in the same way his crush might appear to Tuwawi, should she have ever clued in or he ever told her of his true feelings. Child's play. Perhaps, that would only be fair after this. Perhaps he deserved nothing less.
The feral thing, a mashup of growing Amazon and Viking that he had no name for, within him dithered on caring and not caring. He wasn't romantically involved with anyone and likely never would be; so what did it matter? And anyway, he had no intentions of seeing Spectra again.
Turning his thoughts away from such things, the Rekkr breathed in the crisp morning air, the dawn lightening little by little though the rise of the sun had yet to break above the crust of the horizon. Crystalline blue eyes swept across the darkened landscape before he lifted his leg to add his scent to the markers before he trotted on, following the invisible scent line with every intention of carrying on his patrol.
a crime so old as the sky and bone