Jökull spent far too much time clawing at the trunk of the tree, trying to climb it; jumping up and down, thrashing against the bark with tooth and fang, dismantling the tree's protective covering. From an spectator's point of view, she looked like a simpleton trying to uproot a tree fifty times bigger than her. Who could say height meant anything to a pup with blazing aspirations? One way or another, she would slay this tree. This pretentious, towering plant!
Wind whizzed past her ears, platinum eyes glued to that run-down arm. She flexed her body to attack the tree again, but a loud CRACK! made her pause. Overhead, the branch she had been so taken with broke in two. It started falling, not gaining any momentum due to other branches in its path. Jökull was weary enough to move out of the way lest she be bombarded by splintered wood. Upon doing so, the branch collided with the ground behind her. The wood was so decayed, it did not even make a sound.
The tree was silent.
“I win!” she gloated, prancing around the circumference of the tree before hiking up a leg and relieving herself. Ahh...
Týrr had taken a break from the borders to hunt himself a snack, polishing off the rabbit he had caught quickly before he disregarded the bones, letting it for the crows and other scavengers to pick clean. Typically, the young Rekkr was not so caring about the lives of animals that were not wolves but a scavenger’s kill could mean the difference between life and death for them in the harshest time of winter and it only seemed fair to attempt to return the favor. He knew that he could have returned to the borders, they had no shortage of wolves seeking a home here, it would seem, but he wanted to explore the Glacier a bit more, perhaps even stumble across a pack member he had yet to meet. There were a few of them whom he did not know, having only met Malachi, Njal and Tuwawi officially. He knew he needed to be a little bit more sociable with his pack mates, because inner pack relations were important and that wasn't something he could dispute even if he wanted too. He had to contribute socially, as well as task oriented. Except, Týrr sometimes had trouble with that. He was very driven and focused and sometimes that got in the way of his ability to multitask. Or perhaps, as a male, he was simply bad at multitasking; he didn't have the answer, instead knowing only the issue.
It was with his newly chosen task for the day in mind that he happened to stumble across the one of the Sveijarn girl's. He recognized her as the one that had planted her face into his back leg upon their arrival upon the Glacier. Jökull, he was pretty sure her name was. She had dodged the decayed limb of the tree that had fallen to the ground, shattering upon it's contact with the harsh and unforgiving ground, the torn up trunk giving evidence that it had put up some kind of fight with either Jökull or something else's tooth and claw. The girl declared that she won, pranced around the tree trunk from what he could see and then lifted her leg to urinate on it. Brows furrowed in surprise because Týrr had never seen a girl pee like that and worked but ultimately failed to hide his soft escape of a chuckle.
Very impressive,
Týrr humored the girl as he approached, crystalline gaze rising to examine the tree for a few seconds before he looked back to her.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
“Ya scared meh!” The Sveijarn pups were heavily protected – no living thing would slip by Duskfire's borders without one of the adults knowing about it. So she thought. Knowing that put the northblood at ease, but she could not deny that she was...jumpy at times. This place – she loved it here, yet it was not accepted without a sliver of suspicion. Little did she know, that “suspicion” was instinct.
“Killed it, I did!” If she could beat on her chest like a chimp, she would have. Instead, she settled with an upturned nose and a flagging tail. “Gonna be da bes' warrior when I gets big! Nah...I already am!” Thus began her peacock strut once more. She need not be grown in order to whoop somebody – she was just that good.
Jökull spun to face him quickly, letting Týrr know that he had surprised the young Sveijarn, unintentionally, of course, but he still felt guilty for it, nevertheless. Jökull stated that he had scared her and Týrr bowed his head to the young Prinsessa in an apologetic manner. My deepest apologies,
He murmured to her, peeking at her with his head still curved towards the earth before he pulled himself out of the apologetic bow and offered her a sheepish sort of smile. His apology had been sincere and if the young Jökull had been offended by Týrr's seemingly natural ability to take the girl off guard she did not show it. Their conversation did not even linger upon it, really, for in the next breath the girl was freely boasting about her accomplishment. Týrr grinned at her upturned nose and flagged tail, moving closer to the bulk of where the decayed branch lay near them, lowering his head to inspect it's ruins. I saw,
Týrr told her in a matter of fact tone; though he had only seen it fall and had been rather grateful she had dodged it in time though he doubted it would have done any sort of lasting harm given it's state of utter decay. There's hardly anything left of it,
He nosed the softened wood, making a 'hmm'ing noise in his throat as he inspected it before he pulled back and turned his crystalline gaze to his young companion once more.
Týrr's brows raised ever so slightly when she stated that she was going to be the best warrior when she was older but then quickly rectified it by saying that she already was. Enemies of the Glacier beware,
He grinned at her in a conspirator-like manner. He realized that he probably shouldn't have been aiding the boost in her ego but figured that it was harmless, and besides, it wasn't as if he was going to stand there and discourage her. I'm Týrr, by the way,”
The Rekkr introduced himself to her after a few moments before his lips parted again as he inquired, Think you can teach me some of those moves, Greatest Warrior?
a crime so old as the sky and bone
As Týrr inspected the slain branch, Jökull ceased all movement to stare at him. In the short moments he hovered around the branch, she fully saw him in all his roguish glory: locks of sepia and russet thrown aloft by wind, Spanish blue orbs brought out by the lily-white lines beneath both eyes. His face was shaped...pleasantly? She did not know how to depict his unique attributes. Only that he was nice to look at.
“Yeah! Or you's gonna gets WHOOPED!” Just what Jökull needed: an even bigger head. Njal, Tuwawi, and her siblings were never gonna hear the end of it now.
“Ya probs already know my name, but I'm Jökull.
“Ya wants a whoopin' huh?” Big words for such a small thing, but she was not about to disappoint. “Aight,” she acquiesced, backing up to do her thing. Which was a whole lot of jerky movements, barrel rolls, and breathless instructions. In truth, Jökull knew very little about combat, but she does know the element of surprise...
Another barrel roll brought her closer to him, his outstretched leg tantalizingly bare. She swung herself this and way that – just to keep up with appearances – before she snapped at his right front leg. With any luck, she would find purchase on his bicep. After all that, she better find something. Putting on such an extravagant show was not without its downfalls.
Týrr wasn't sure if Tuwawi, Njal, or any of Jökull's siblings would be overtly thrilled that he was helping to stoke her ego but what was he supposed to say to the girl? It was decayed and was likely going to fall on it's own anyway or It's not living so technically you didn't kill it? Týrr had always prided himself on the fact that he, most of the time, wasn't rude, and her certainly wasn't going to crush her dreams. She was just a little girl, after all. I'll tell you what, you did a real number on this branch and I'd be preettyy scared,
Týrr told her with a firm nod of his head, drawing out the word 'pretty' as if to emphasis it. He didn't want to tell her that he thought she was absolutely adorable because, given what he had seen so far of her ego, he rather thought that she would enjoy being called 'adorable'. Just because she was small and young now didn't mean she would stay that way forever, and when her puberty hit he could tell that she'd likely be just as fierce as she thought she was for real. It felt a little awkward to try to imagine her as a woman and so Týrr let out a small cough and diverted his eyes glimpsing at the sky for a moment, until she spoke to him once more, introducing herself, proving that he was right in who he had thought she was. It's nice to officially meet you, Jökull,
Týrr couldn't help the smile that had begun to tug at the corners of his lips. He didn't consider their first meeting, when she'd ran into the back of his leg an “official” meeting despite that it was quite memorable for the young Rekkr.
Yeah,
The teenager said with a laugh at her question. Show me what you can do,
He encouraged, shifting himself into a defensive posture, crystalline eyes trained on the Sveijarn girl as she began to...well it looked like she was dancing to the Nýeldur as she moved jerkily and barrel rolled; a barrel roll brought her close to him and on his own instinct Týrr ghosted back a step, more caught up in the sashay of her movements, which was not something he'd witnessed before as far as training for combat went to notice that she was gaining on the small bit of ground his ghosting step backwards had gave him. Her movements reminded him of a King Cobra in it's trace like state, swaying — just like the King Cobra he had likened her too she struck, quickly, her teeth finding purchase upon his bicep. Týrr winced and drew in a sharp breath both of surprise and at the pain of her sharp teeth as they made contact, his nerves screaming at him to detach her from him. Good,
The Rekkr grunted at her in praise looking down his muzzle at her, waiting for her to, hopefully, let go of him. That little uh, dance was effective.
He fumbled for the words, feeling that he needed to praise what had distracted him, knowing that it probably meant he wasn't quite the warrior he had fancied himself as.
Some small corner of Týrr's mind wandered as he considered that with the right training — better left to her parents than him, admittedly — it wasn't going to be her father or brothers that eager teenage boys would have to worry about, but rather Jökull herself and almost laughed at the mental image that came with it, but stopped himself short of letting it burst out. Instead, he attempted to refocus his attention where it belonged: in the present.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Imagine her surprise when she actually got a hold of him, tiny daggers digging into his skin to the point of penetration. Lucky for him, Jökull had no interest in hurting him. Týrr has done nothing but stroke her ego upon arriving. While her family might not appreciate the idolization, Jökull sure as hell did. Unhinging her jaws from his arm, she inspected for damage she may from wrought. She had not tasted any blood, but it did not hurt to check and make sure.
Pleased by the absence of blood, Jökull licked him where she had clamped down on only moments before, trying to lick away the pain inflicted.
“I dunno...'bout dat,” she quietly spoke, moving away to give Týrr some much needed space. Doubt infused her words. She had managed to get a hold of him, but he had been (somewhat) stationary during her frenetic diversion. Would she have snagged him if he had been on the move? A sinking in the pit of her stomach told he no.
“I gots ya, but I don't think dat would work in a real...um...” Wide eyes looked up into his, searching for the appropriate word.
There was a relief of little pinpricks of pain when Jökull disengaged her jaws from his leg. Týrr had suffered much worse than the bite of a child, but that didn't lessen the fact that her teeth were sharp as hell. He couldn't exactly peer at himself to see if she did any sort of damage but took the fact that he didn't feel the warm rush of sticky blood down his fur to be a good sign. Týrr knew well enough that children likely weren't able to tell what was play and what was actual maiming, for it was all the same to them, wasn't it? Jökull's close proximity to him remained and he glanced down at her casually, trying to figure out what it was she was doing. It sunk in a few seconds later that she was inspecting him, unaware that she was checking to make sure she didn't do any real damage, not, at least, until he felt her tongue soothe over the damp spot of fur where she had bitten him. It was such an odd and unexpected thing to Týrr, to feel the Sveijarn girl licking where she had bitten him moments before as if she cared. Which the action sort of insinuated to the Rekkr that she did, even in some small semblance. He glimpsed down at the and then back at her as she moved away from him, creating space between them. Crystalline eyes were gentle and softened measurably at her words of doubt. It was even more bizarre to hear her go from be so confident in her abilities to modest in the next moment. He thought that he understood — she was being hard on herself. Týrr was the king of being too hard on himself, punishing and pushing himself.
Life?
Týrr offered her when she appeared to struggle with the word she was looking for. He was quiet for a moment as he considered her words. It was true, her opponent in a real fight would not be stationary. He (or she) would be moving, trying to get in attacks, defending themselves, trying to deflect her attacks. Well, it's true that in a real fight your opponent would be moving, but you have to practice your moves on something stationary first. Perfect your moves and then apply them to moving target. That was how I learned.
If it did any good or not, Týrr couldn't tell her. As far as he was aware he'd never been in a real fight, himself.
If you want you could try it again but I'll move so I can try to dodge you?
He suggested. Give her a taste of if it would work in real life, or not, if she was willing, provided.
a crime so old as the sky and bone