The day went over well after meeting Sveinn and gaining his allegiance, and it left Tuwawi with a renewed spring in her step. Spirits were high. Now, she not only had an ally but also had managed to rekindle a lost comrade. Excitement seeped into her blood as she criss-crossed along the low, rolling base of the glacial peak, enjoying the good weather and beautiful land. Some magical sights stood out as especially unique: a deposit of large granite boulders, a glen of purples, and small body of water to quench the native prey's thirst. Still, a place for a new burrow evaded her discerning gaze, but she was confident one would reveal itself soon.
As the light started to fade from the sky, the ember wondered if the Northern boy had stuck around or ventured off. After all, he was only bound by words. The pack would not initiate for some time, and he was not restricted from traveling. Still, Tuwawi scented the air and howled a melody to learn if the youth had gone on an adventure, eager for his company.
Following Tuwawi's offer and his acceptance of said offer, Týr did not venture too far away from the territory that Njal and Tuwawi intended to claim for the simple sake of not wanting to miss her call. The call that would solidify their claim and make their vision into a reality. Instead, he lingered near creating caches throughout the territory the intended to claim and filling them gradually with catches. He was capable of doing that, at least, glad that he had something to do because wandering around the territory simply waiting for the howl would have, very likely, driven Týr mad. He wanted to help the pair in any way that he could, while understanding until they were actually established that he did not actually have much of a role. He couldn't do anything to speed the process along. Patience, the young Rekkr had came to learn long ago was a valuable virtue but not only that he wanted to implore with any sense of laziness.
It was as the sun had began it's descent into the horizon, chased by the luminescent moon and star littered sky of the velvet night that Týr covered the cache he had disrupted to add his catch: a fox that had nearly, reminiscent of his failed hunt that Haunter had witnessed, escaped his clutches. It was luck alone that the Rekkr had been able to out maneuver the slippery little vixen and when he had caught her he had felt victorious. He covered the disturbed hole in the ground with the dirt he had unearthed, and lifted his leg to mark it so other predators would not disturb it. He had considered traveling south west to Stavanger Bay, to speak to his father again but for the sake of not wanting to miss anything and knowing that his place was here even if the pack had not yet been created.
In the following moments Týr was immensely glad that he hadn't took a venture south west for his soon to be fire kissed Queen's voice rose into the rapidly fading dusk calling out for him. It did not hold the urgency of a founding pack but the young Rekkr was not taught to ignore summons. Especially, from his superiors — even those soon to be. He headed in her direction with a quickened pace and came across her quickly, pace slowing as a soft smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. Hello, Drottning,
Týr greeted Tuwawi with a respectful bow of his head, drawing near to her to place a submissive lick her under her chin before he pulled back giving her space. He preferred his native language word for Queen over the common tongue version. It sounded more melodic to him though that might have been because it was his assumed first language.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Hello, Drottning, the youngblood said in a foreign tongue, readily showing his submission with a lowered posture and quick peck upon the chin. Tuwawi was smitten, and her tail curled in approval of the youth's address. Likewise, she nudged his dark crown in acknowledgement. "You are still here," she breathed, "I was afraid you had moved on for the time being." Týr was hardly bound to this land in the interim, but his loyalty was more than welcome. "Drottning," she parroted him, "what does it mean?"
Týr had tried to go to Tuwawi as quick as he could without appearing that he was too desperate to appease her — after all he wasn't a fan of wolves kissing up and that was the last thing he wanted to be; but he tried to always be punctual. Ragnar had never condoned tardiness when he had called for his eldest son, not that it had ever been much of a problem as to where Týr was concerned. The young Rekkr hated being tardy on basic instinct. He hated to be kept waiting and likewise would never want someone to wait for him for long and unnecessary periods of time. He offered Tuwawi a soft smile when he felt the touch of her nudge against his crown, ears lowering to stand at half mast atop his skull for a few moments before they cupped forth to hear her murmured words carried on a soft breath. They were close enough that it was impossible for him to not catch them, never mind the exceptional hearing of their species.
Yes, I am still here,
Týr murmured softly, demurely. He hoped that his lingering presence despite that the lands were not officially claimed did not make him seem over-eager in any way that resembled obnoxiousness. He had never before assisted in founding a pack, assuming that he had been born into Odinn's Cove and had simply drifted when he had finally set out upon his own path, eager to appease the All-Father and his own father at the same time. Not to mention the weight of the burden he bore upon his broad shoulder of living up to the glory of the God whose name he shared. Why Ragnar had ever thought naming his son after a God was a good idea Týr did not know. It was an honor, he knew, and he was honored but with honor and glory came a hefty encumbrance to bear. That was how it simply was. I wanted to assist you and Njal in what I can so I have been creating caches and filling them. I have two started already,
He admitted to Tuwawi, sharing with her what he had been doing. He itched to explore a bit more and while he trusted his sense of direction did not want to risk being too far out and missing anything of importance.
When she parroted the Norse word back to him, his lips twitched as if he were trying to hide his smile — which he was — for this situation was strangely reminiscent of the first time he had really gotten to speak with Fox, though the woman that stood before him was vastly different than Fox had been. It means Queen, in my native tongue.
He had always considered that his words sounded much better in Norse than they did in the common tongue if only because it tended to sound more poetic to him. Even so, he understood the lack of knowledgeable Norse speakers and so settled contently with the common language.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
She took a moment to think about their future journey and asked, "perhaps when we leave you could meet us half way? Just north of Swiftcurrent. I can howl for you." Tuwawi could not know if it would just be Njal and herself, or if they would potentially be granted an escort. In either case, having the loyal Týr acoompany them would be beneficial. "For now, perhaps you could help me locate a suitable den site?" she asked him with a bright ring to her tone, "or we could hunt?" He tail waved like a banner, genuinely jubilant.
In time, she hoped to prove a decent leader but queen? The word caught Tuwa off-guard, and she stifled a nervous laugh. "Hardly!" she told him. Imagine herself... a queen? Just yesterday she was a scrappy rogue. She buffered Týr's shoulder with a friendly shove to lead him in the direction of a trail she wished to explore. "You Northerners and your etiquette!" she chided him with a mischievous lilt.
Týrr had a moment of, not embarrassment per say, but modesty when she seemed pleased with his work. He'd only been trying to do something, loathing the idea of not doing anything. It was small, what he contributed, but he figured every little inch would help them in the long run. He did what he could, not being able to do anything with Swiftcurrent Creek to aid them. He had taken the initiative to start something that he thought was critical, after all, he knew caches would be relied upon heavily in the winter when the prey grew scarce from their migrations. Caches could mean the difference between life and death and though he was no true hunter, as had been painfully and humiliatingly pointed out to him shortly before Týrr left Swiftcurrent Creek he was adequate enough to fill up caches and keep himself alive.
Týrr was contemplative and politely silent as Tuwawi spoke her offer. He could meet them half way, that she could howl for him. It would allow him to explore a bit so he didn't feel the need to coop himself up in the territory the Njal and Tuwawi intended to claim, while giving him a place to be. Crystalline eyes left her for a moment, taking in the vast stretch of greenery and the rise of the mountain, tall and glorious in a way that Týrr could not find actual words to explain. He was taken with the territory, even if he could not distinctly place why. It had always been like that, though, for as long as he could remember. He would get the distinct feeling of deja vu when he did something, the solidification with an absoluteness that he had done that before when he knew he hadn't. It was similar with his initial exploration of the treacherous heights, any apprehension he had harbored, fear of slipping to his death had been absolved when his body seemed to know exactly how to balance it's weight. Týrr had no explanation and wrote it off as nothing more I would be glad to meet you half way,
He spoke having realized that he had yet to answer her. It had only been a short pause but in the wake of his wandering thoughts had made him feel sheepish in regards to the pause, nevertheless.
I don't mind helping you pick out a den,
Týrr told her with a soft smile, desiring a break from hunting for a bit, and not wanting her to see his shamefully mediocre hunting skills. Real estate is pretty important,
He spoke with a soft laugh, her good mood infectious. He, himself, had yet to pick out a den but he'd been enjoying sleeping beneath the stars, the nights cooler against the oppressing heat of the days. Ok, so what should I address you as, then?
The Rekkr posed the question to her as she gave him a amiable shove forward. On the physical invitation the Rekkr moved forward with a laugh, feeling a little odd to be taking the lead when she was his leader. Gentlemen of Winter, hmm?
He teased back at her. He had always been more refined than his Scandinavian brethren, much more refined than his father. He didn't know why and it wasn't something he had ever thought about until one of them had begun teasing him about it. Týrr had always liked using formalities, especially when addressing or speaking to the fairer sex, finding that he was more willing to follow a woman than a man though that odd preference had never made much sense to him. Still, it was a secret that he coveted, figuring that it just made him like the black swan in the group.
Did you have a specific kind of den in mind?
He inquired of her seriously, knowing that she, as a mother, probably had a much better idea of what she was looking for a den than he, himself did; then again he didn't need much.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Her den back at Swiftcurrent had been excavated beneath a small copse of young beech trees in the center of a little glen. A plush lawn and large boulders decorated their garden, and provided a safe-haven for the children to wrestle in. The sapling's hungry roots ensured little flooding and the deep, narrow burrow thwarted nefarious predators. A deer's skin lined the floor, but Tuwawi doubted they would be able to take it with them. "It has to be a dry place," she told him, "and I prefer soil to rocks or fallen trees." Some mothers tended to rear their young in a cave system, others beneath logs. Yet Tuwawi, born onto vast plains filled with sweet heather, adored the insulating qualities of the earth's loam. "A secret, safe place in the heart of this territory would be good... far enough away from water," for Tuwawi retained vivid memories of Kindre's tragic flood. "I am sure we will know it when we see it."
"But as for a title? Ahh, a name escapes me," even the world alpha felt foreign, let alone queen. "I am sure something will reveal itself in time."
Tuwawi did not seem to be disappointed that Týrr had chosen to help her pick out a den for her family as opposed to hunting. Relief washed over Týrr and he set the memories of Haunter criticizing him into the back of his mind. It didn't matter what Haunter thought anymore. Týrr did not realize that the male was now deceased, coming to that conclusion only because he had deduced that he didn't care what he thought; if he wanted Fox he could have her. As it stood, Týrr had long since decided that he hadn't had much of a chance anyway and it was time for him to put silly things such as useless crushes aside and focus on planting roots and beginning his own legacy instead of trying to struggle to hold up to the expectations of everyone else.
Týrr's ears cupped to the sides of his skull in attention, listening to what she was looking for in a den for her family; mean while wracking his brain for a place that suited her specifications. On one hand finding a suitable den had sounded much easier than embarrassing himself in front of her with his average hunting skills but in comparison he was not, suddenly, so sure. He hadn't really been den searching and so he was not aware of all the places that this territory had to offer them. He had thought about inhabiting a cave, himself; then again he was a bachelor. He did not have to please anyone else with his den choice, neither did he have small children to consider — he would likely never have children if the bleak outlook on his love life was of any indication of the future. Ears lowered to half mast as crystalline blue eyes focused upon the path they took, leading the pair — earth and fire — deeper into the heart of the territory where Tuwawi had requested they conduct their search for the perfect den.
Tuwawi seemed confident that they would know it when they saw it, but the Rekkr had to hide his creeping smile at the mental correction that he wouldn't know the first thing about a suitable den if it smacked him in the face. So in reality, she would know it when she saw it. Still, Týrr appreciated her inclusion of him, nevertheless. Maybe I will keep thinking up words in Norse, then, and run them by you to see which one you like,
Unless she came across one she liked, first. In truth, Týrr would call her whatever she wished him to. He let the silence drag on for a bit as continued forward. I have an...uh awkward question and there is no obligation for you to answer or anything,
He laughed softly, abashed at himself. If he could have blushed he would have been. What's it like being a parent?
He was young, still, but would hit own sexual maturity on the first of the new year. Naturally, he couldn't help his curiosity.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Týrr's voiced became unsteady as he spoke again - uncharacteristic for the stoic youth who often acted beyond his ears. Tuwawi's inquisitive face turned to him, one ear cocked in question. 'I have an...uh awkward question and there is no obligation for you to answer or anything,' he stammered, 'What's it like being a parent?' A bit of relief washed over Tuwa. "Is that all?" she chuckeled, almost certain he had been about to ask something more gruesome. Though parentage and the affairs of the heart were undoubtedly more embarrassing for boys than the ladies - something Tuwawi often forgot. Gossip and small-talk was common among the women and girls of Swiftcurrent, leaving the men to figure things out by themselves. Nevertheless, she was delighted to offer insight into the throes and joys of parenthood.
"It is the greatest delight," she began, searching for the right words. "I never thought I'd be a mother, you know... I had always been sooo..." Rash? Argumentative? Insubordinate? "...young of mind. I never thought myself suitable. But then I found Njal, and found myself wanting them... my children. I guess time changes you." Indeed, Tuwawi had once been an astute follower... and soon she would be a leader.
Tuwawi's chuckle and according question made him wonder what it was she thought he was going to ask her, but it did little to soothe the young Rekkr's embarrassment. It wasn't as if he often thought about that sort of future. Of mateship and ...children. It wasn't exactly the highest thing on his list of priorities but in the rare times that Týrr did think of it he was left with many more questions than answers. There were many things that Ragnar hadn't told him about parenthood, deflecting the question with smirks and jibes, and Floki sure as hell wasn't any help. It was true, it wasn't something Týrr had to worry about for a while. First, he had to reach two years of age, and then he had to find a girl; which was admittedly much harder than either male had made it sound. Týrr had no experience with so called “love” and further more no experience with the opposite sex in that kind of way. His primary focus as a child had been training. Even now, he focused on earning his Trades over everything else. He was driven, even he could see that but he feared that he had a bit of a one tracked mind. He knew what he wanted and he didn't stop until he got it and then he focused on everything else that he had allowed to slack — namely things like social life, and so on.
Týrr listened quietly when Tuwawi spoke, answering his injury honestly. He was appreciative of that, used to being deflected until he gave up. Hearing her admit that she had considered herself young of mind surprised Týrr because she didn't seem young of mind to him now. I see,
Týrr drew in a breath and let it out with a soft smile afforded towards his fire kissed soon-to-be leader. I like kids, a lot,
He admitted, though that was because he was still young, himself. Not too young, almost nearing his second year but still young enough to remember what he thought was his childhood. The joys and carefree tendencies that all children clung too. Thank you for answering my question.
Týrr spoke sincerely, albeit still feeling a little awkward about it; but it wasn't like he could go to Ragnar for advice or questions of those nature.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Tuwawi beamed when Týrr admitted her had a soft spot for kids. It would be good to have a great role model around the youngin's. "Maybe you will have your own some day," she said with a light chuckle. The Sveijarn was tickled that she might be able to play matchmaker for the young ward. His awkward expression was endearing, and the ember buffered his shoulder in a friendly gesture with a wink. "Don't sweat it. Anything you need to know - I got the info. We're family now."
She offered a warm smile, but her attention was suddenly redirected to an idyllic den-site. "Oh, here!" Tuwawi exclaimed as she hurried over to a mass of trees. It wouldn't be like their home in Swiftcurrent where they had a charming glen to call their own. A group of old, yellowing aspens stood atop a fine purchase of dry loam and grasses. It was shady, here, and the dappled sunlight flitted across the mulch-covered ground approvingly. "This will be perfect," she told Týrr a confident nod. "I better start, eh? Dens don't dig themselves." Tuwawi began to scratched the dirt, breaking first ground and beginning the arduous task of constructing a new home.