As time progressed since the agreement of Nerian and Ragnar, Thistle had been seeking her own solace more often than not. She did not want to see either of them at the moment, while her emotions were still ragged and raw. She simply didn't want too and she had agreed to this so she had to get over it soon enough, but for now she wanted to simply just take her time and grieve for what had been.
She padded along the shore and further into the birds eye view of the world and she stood overlooking everything that was and is and a tear traced it's way down her face and she sighed softly her tail moving gently with the wind.
Her thoughts chased each other as she stood there watching, what could she have done to make him love her more or maybe it just was that he was unable to commit to one that could be it and if that was the case she just didn't know what she was going to do, probably nothing. Loved him to much to leave and the situation could prove okay as time went on, but right this moment the fawn colored femme was far from okay. Had been far from okay for months now, and that wasn't necessarily anyone's fault except maybe her's.
The long nights she'd walk the ground or the nights she'd just lay with eyes wide open and pretend to just be waking up when her children and Ragnar did. These were all clues to a puzzle that was Thistle, and she thought perhaps it all came down to the simple fact that her children's lives had started on a whim and in a moonless forest with a man she had met once. She was willing to bet that was what set this all in motion and nothing more.
The day was fair and slowly Týr made his way towards Stavanger Bay with exaggerated slowness hesitating on the precipice of his trepidation. He wanted to see his father again but he was not so ignorant not to realize that he had a family, a new family that did not include him. So long he had strove to prove himself to Ragnar, to be worthy and now when faced with the chance to show his father what and who he was becoming Týr was scared. Scared that Ragnar wouldn't approve, that he wasn't welcome because the Jarl had moved on. It was a silly fear, borne of an insecurity that he had never known until it had been thrown in his face that he wasn't good enough. He tried not to let it get to him but he was only a teenager and he had his moments of doubt. Perhaps it was one of those moments that spurred his current trepidation.
Instead of going all the way to Stavanger Bay he lingered in Gyrfalcon's Keep pausing to take a drink from a fresh rain water puddle he found after he had dined on a plump rabbit he had caught, cleansing his chin and teeth from the pink stain and crimson droplets of warm blood that had lingered on the fine hairs there, salmon pink tongue sliding across charcoal lips as his head rose to allow crystalline blue eyes to study the unexplored landscape. He had passed through the Keep once only to confirm that his father's presence in the Wilds was stronger than it had been, sparked by curiosity as to his intentions. Studiously, the young Rekkr watched, muscles pulling taunt as a fawn, sandy colored wolf came into his line of vision, eyes narrowing to study her from afar, silver kohl lined eyes following her every move, black, leathery nostrils flaring as he scented Ragnar all over her. Others lingered on her coat, as well, but Ragnar's scent was the most familiar to him and Týr was confronted with the consideration that it was his step mother he watched.
On a impulse the teenager let out a chuff to announce his presence to her.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Hello! she strode a little bit closer as she did not wish to have to speak loudly to pass the time with pleasant words. I'm sorry I didn't notice you there I was admiring the view and lost in thought. she did not offer her name yet not even thinking about it as of yet.
The woman greeted him with a warm hello and, interestingly enough, an apology that caused the young Rekkr's lips to part with curiosity at the expression though from where he was standing she had no need to apologize to him...and nothing to apologize to him for. Even if she hadn't acknowledged his chuff he would not have been offended if only because they were strangers, though he was undeniably glad that she had acknowledged his presence. TheHeathenPrince offered her a soft smile in return of her own, noting that she had a pretty smile and cut quite an elegant and regal figure, and then felt weird for thinking that about his maybe step mother. Of course there was always the chance that she wasn't what he suspected but it was clear she meant something to Ragnar because his scent was all over her, easy to distinguish to Týr because it was as familiar as his own scent. “Hello,” Týr returned with a voice that carried his soft accent, not as distinguished as Ragnar's own.
For a short while Týr was content to let the silence fester, taking the time to contemplate the least offensive and intruding way to inquire about her identity and connection to his father. “I am Týr,” He introduced himself leaving off the affectionate nickname that he had felt he had long since grown out of. He might have been a teenager but 'boy' was failing in it's continuation of aptness. “I uh, I don't mean to pry but you're from Stavanger Bay, correct? I ...have family there.” It wasn't the most practiced way and in reality he hadn't asked her anything, and even so there was always the consideration that Ragnar would not have told his newest wife of his existence. It was a painful thought but he was the product of a past life — wives, consorts and family that Ragnar had left behind to understandably fulfill Odinn's commands.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Thistle saw the curious look and she chuckled lightly she supposed she did greet strangers away from home a little bit nicer than she should. But she was a social little thing even on her worst day. He offered her a smile in return for her greeting and she dipped small muzzle slightly.
Her ears perked forward at his accent. Though it wasn't as pronounced as Ragnar's or Dagruns it was there all the same and she did not have to guess of his background. Thistle heard the name and her smile grew Hello Tyr I am glad to finally meet you. I'm Thistle Cloud, your fathers wife. Thistle stood still then waiting she was fairly certain he was Ragnars son after hearing his name and more positive at his admission of having family in the bay.
It was not his lovely companion's warm greeting that had sparked his curiosity but rather her apology, and for a brief moment, lips spliced at her soft chuckle to assure her that she had nothing to apologize to him for but in the interest of not offending her let his mouth close with a sharp click of teeth, accepting it as he swallowed his assurance, letting it dissolve from his thoughts. Watching the woman's smile grow when he gave her his given name he felt a small sprint of hope blossom within his chest that Ragnar had not forgotten about him, after all. The son of the deceased wife, the wife he never mentioned ...easily forgettable getting swept up in the horizon of his new wife and his new children, right? But she knew him, by name at least, introducing herself as Thistle Cloud and also as his 'Father's wife'. Týr let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding, feeling a wave of relief surge through and over him as he realized that Ragnar hadn't forgotten about him.
Having his suspicions confirmed he studied Thistle unabashed and freely though his eyes were reserved if to remain gentlemanly in his studies. After all, this was his step mother. For a moment he wasn't sure what to say to her knowing that she was fully aware that he was her step son and wondering if that made her feel bitter towards him. It was awkward, trying to determine where this made them stand with one another. Týr wasn't her son and therefore she had no reason to be kind to him, to want anything to do with him. She could have hated him, everything he was because he was to a past wife of her husband; likewise she wasn't his mother but she was his mother by marriage.
If Týr had any memories of his mother they were long gone though he was fairly sure that Ragnar and Floki had told him she had died giving birth to him (nevermind that his birth mother was very much alive and mourning and searching for him). “So that makes you my step-mother I guess,” Týr finally offered wondering if it was as awkward for her as it was for him; despite that his awkwardness was borne of his own lack of knowledge of them or what kind of step-mother she would be if she was even interested in being his step mother of any semblance. He didn't really need her, he was capable of taking care of himself but he couldn't help but think that it would be nice to have something he had never had before (or at least has no recollection of having): a mother. “You're very pretty,” Týr offered her as a compliment, wondering how long he would have to suffer his own trepidation and according awkwardness. “I've been meaning to visit but I wasn't sure if ...I mean he has you and new children probably and I didn't want to intrude.” Týr spoke, clearing his throat once, taking his crystalline blue eyes off of her to look around their surroundings, wishing he could turn off the feeling that he'd been replaced and that he had no place in Ragnar's new life.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Thistle could be bitter and cruel to Ragnar's sons obviously given Bragi, but she had been angry already or she would not have treated him that way they could not help their father was no saint. Although sadly Tyr was not even aware he did not belong to Ragnar and she wouldn't tell.
Thistle smiled again thank you She listened to him and realized she had to do this right for the boy was afraid he had been replaced. She stepped forward a little further and nudged his shoulder and soothed her muzzle across his ears the same she would do for her own sons if he would let her you are welcome in our home whenever you want to come I'm sure your 2 brothers and your sister would love to meet their big brother and though your father says nothing I know he misses you. He went looking for you a few times. And he has kept up with where you are and i will glad to be your step mother
she backed up then and settled to her haunches waiting to see if he was ok with her touch. She offered him another smile and her tail thumped gently on the ground.
Týr's paws shuffled against the dirt beneath them, scuffing scrapes the exact size of his paw pads, watching the dust billow out and float lazily back to the hard earth from whence it had came, chocolate colored ears cupping forth as she accepted his compliment. Which was awkward because he had been appreciating her as a male appreciated a female only to come to learn that his suspicions were true: she was his step mother. Awkward. In fact it took awkward to a whole new level. The Rekkr glimpsed up at her, peeking at Thistle Cloud through his lashes when she welcomed them into their home whenever he wanted. He offered her a lift of the right corner of his lips into something resembled a half sorrow and half smile twitch. “I think we both know Ragnar would never allow that,” Stavanger Bay might have been ran by his father but since Týr was not actually joining the Bay he did not have the freedom to traipse through their lands just because he was the Jarl's son and though he appreciated what Thistle Cloud was attempting to do he didn't want to trespass on his father's lands just as thoroughly as he knew Ragnar didn't want him doing it.
Týr held statue still as the woman drew nearer to him, the muscles pulled taunt beneath his coat as he felt her muzzle nudge against his shoulder, the warmth and kindness in the simple touch, a soft shiver snaking down his spine as Thistle smoothed her muzzle over his ears accomplished likely only because his head had lowered, exposing the strong curve of his spine as his muzzle neared the earth as he attempted to figure out how he felt about her motherly touches and at the enormity of having a mother and siblings. It was a lot to process at once and it left his head spinning at a dizzying dose of vertigo as if he were standing on a very high precipice looking down into the dark and dizzying drop below him. “I... have never had a mother before,” Týr admitted to her in a soft murmur hoping that she didn't take his reservation as a rejection. “I want to take this slow. It will take some time for me to ...be used to it,” He paused, drawing in a deep breath, hoping he wasn't insulting her with his words. “And to get to know you.” It sort of sounded like they were entering a romantic relationship, which they were not, but he had no other way to communicate that he couldn't just love a stranger as a mother. That wasn't plausible for the young Rekkr and all he could do was hope that she understood.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Thistle having backed up at this point chuckled of course that is fine and I would not deign to take the place of the woman that birthed you I can merely substitute a little motherly love for you but what would you like to know of me? Thistle sat and curled her tail tightly around her paws hiding her single white paw from view and she waited gently promising she would no longer touch unless he wanted her too. She would let him get used to the idea of her good lord what would he do when she told him he may soon have two mothers.
Realizing jealously she did not wish to share tyr yet either she kept her maw closed on that. She wanted to get to know him herself before Nerian though the other femme probably already knew him more than she did and just like that another pang.
Her offer to deal with Ragnar for him made him feel like he was hiding behind her though the both of the knew that it wasn't the case. His reluctance wasn't because he in any shape or form feared his father. It was simply because despite Thistle Cloud's reassurances he was not sure he had a place in Ragnar's life still and even if he still did he shouldn't have the ability to just come and go on the Bay's lands just because he was the Jarl's son. “No, no, that's alright. I do not think that I should be treated special just because I am the Jarl's son,” If death was the penalty for trespassing for everyone else then it was the penalty for trespassing if he did it. It was only fair to Týr.
“I do not mean to be crass Thistle Cloud, I know she died giving birth to me. I have no recollection of her and therefore no real connection to her,” Even as the words passed from the chocolate Rekkr's lips they felt wrong. There was a pang in his heart every time he thought or spoke of his mysterious mother that rose like a sudden hurricane over the calm seas. Something that told him that he did have a connection to her and that to replace her was wrong. Thistle Cloud wasn't a replacement, but she was a mother through marriage and more of a mother than he had ever had before. “How did you and my father meet?” Týr inquired, feeling that it was the best place to start. How they met and how they had came to be married since he had been absent for those moments and they were obviously the most important.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
She frowned for a moment at his stubbornness, should he be treated special not because he was even the jarl’s son but because he was his son. It was the way of things, no child should be pushed to the side, because of another child or children, though she strongly suspected the same thing would happen to her own children soon enough, but that was a fight for a different day if it was needed. Even if he wasn’t jarl you deserve to see your siblings as I said even if I have to bring them to the borders to meet you, it is not right that they go without knowing their brother. It is not fair to them or to you.
‘
I do not see that as crass I see that as the truth and I understand it. She watched his face to gauge his reaction to those words thinking that it was more him telling himself that than her, because he wanted to believe something, but couldn’t make himself. She told Ragnar the boy may some day remember, but he wasn’t concerned with it, so she shook her head and then laughed at his question. Actually we met because your father got hurt and I am a healer, and he had a delirious fever, because he wouldn’t listen to me of course it’s his own fault and I should have let him suffer. That part was not meant to cut, she was merely teasing affectionately, while having a small barb at his father given her current mood with him. He and I exchanged words on a regular basis..and I suppose those passionate arguments turned to more…. she chuckled again unsure how else or even what else to say.
Týr watched as his new step mother frowned at him, obviously not liking his blatant disregard in which he spoke over not wanting special treatment because he was the Jarl's son. You do not have to go out of your way. If I come to visit them I will do it the honorable and correct way,
Týr told her not with the intention of further vexing her but because he saw it as the right thing to do. He would not disobey his father, especially not as the Jarl and he would do whatever was necessary I would not go against the customs or laws of our culture,
He spoke to her quietly, diverting his eyes afraid that his words would be mistaken for stubbornness and might, in some ways, offend her. Týr offered Thistle Cloud a soft smile when she spoke that she understood his reasoning for wanting to get to know her better and for not wanting to rush into a mother — son relationship with her simply because the law and customs told him he had too.
Týr listened to Thistle Cloud's story with a quiet thoughtfulness that radiated a maturity that surpassed his years. I see,
The young Rekkr drew softly, thinking that while it wasn't quite the dramatic and epic tale he had been anticipating it held weight all the same. The wounded Berserker had sought the lovely healer and in his delirium state had no doubt made clear advances upon her and likely she had spurned him. Yet, Týr knew that would not be enough to deter his ambitious father, so he kept trying and gradually their fights turned into heated passion. In it's own way it was still a grand tale and Týr found himself grinning about it, nevertheless. I am sorry I missed it,
He spoke with a soft laugh, wondering what it might have been like to fall in love. His crush on Fox had been that and fleeting, not forgotten but put behind him as he had traveled away having accepted Haunter's assertion: he was not good enough for the fiery leader of Swiftcurrent Creek. Despite his continued training and pushing he knew he would not go back to the Creek though mostly out of shame for leaving them in the first place.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Thistle's lips twitched into a small semblance of a smile and she chuckled to herself. you are your father's son for sure. The two of you make stubbornness look easy. Very well Tyr you can do this the honorable way if you must. She shook her head, normally she would just tell him to stuff it, like she often did with his father, but at the moment she was tired of contrition and displeasure and arguments.
There was so much more to the tell than what she glossed upon, but the simple fact was she was tired of handing her heart out and having it handed back to her cracked and broken or in Ragnar's case Shattered. So she had vowed to keep her heart and her feelings and the like a little closer to the vest so to speak if she could, she didn't know if she would succeed, but this was something she would fight to make work she could be cold she supposed she just didn't like to be.
She laughed then and said quietly So am I you probably would have been amused. At least a little bit anyway, I do not give very much headway to your father in terms of arguments and I imagine I have him in a constant state of exasperation, but eh what are you to do. She chuckled again and tightened her tail even more on her paws, fighting hard to keep from divulging too much of herself.
Týr listened to Thistle speaking of his stubbornness and comparing it to Ragnar's. He said nothing, not sure if he agreed or disagreed with her assessment but let her think what she want, regardless not paying too much attention. He had yet to figure out if being compared to Ragnar was a good thing or something he should strive to change. Currently, all he knew was he wanted his own legacy instead of continuing Ragnar's own. His father had plenty of children to choose from to carry it on now. Younger replacements for him. Týr wasn't needed anymore. Thistle standing before him was the only proof that the young Rekkr had needed. For another stretch of moments he said nothing, offering her a slight twitch of his lips before he let out a sigh knowing that he needed to keep moving. I really should keep moving,
Týr said softly to her, turning his eyes to the vast stretch of forest before him. I am glad we finally met,
It was true even if he wasn't sure how he felt about all of this yet aside from overwhelmed and cautious. I hope we shall speak again.
With those words Týr tipped his head to her before he departed.
a crime so old as the sky and bone