It had been quite some time since Týrr had traveled so far from the Glacier's pack lands but now that he had re-established himself as apart of it once more, he took comfort in the fact that it was likely not going anywhere soon and allowed himself to give his legs a proverbial stretch and adventure out. Much had changed since he'd last been in the Wilds, numerous packs cropping up and some disbanding. The only pack that the Rekkr could bring himself to care about was the Glacier, but he was terribly biased regarding the subject being one of it's founding members. There had always been the feeling that he was meant for a bigger purpose, and he knew that purpose had lain with the Glacier when Tuwawi had first recruited him for it. It just took an identity crises and some much time wondering as a loner, growing up to bring him to the full conclusion of what his purpose was and had always been. Ruling. He had been groomed for it as the Amazon Prince, Tezcacoatl and he had observed the leading skills of Ragnar, though these days the resentment that Týrr felt for the Vikings and his Berserkers made him wish he could forget his time as “Týrr” though, ironically, it was the name he still called himself. Yet, he could not bring himself to refer to himself as Tezcacoatl when it was the name of the boy he'd used to be, before he'd suffered the injury and amnesia. He didn't really remember that time, not anything solid, at any rate. It wasn't fair to call him something that he used to be when he didn't deserve the name. Though the name 'Týrr' brought with it vicious feelings within the Rekkr it was the name he, obviously, felt he deserved the most.
Besides, he could not claim that he as Tezcacoatl would have ever dreamed, or planned on, usurping a leader. Let alone one that was, very likely, the closest thing the Rekkr had to a friend. That desire, savage and ruthless as it was, he believed to stem from the Viking tendencies that had been taught to him, though little did he know it also very much stemmed from the Amazon within him; but as far as Týrr could see there was nothing wrong with him being unwilling to accept anyone's rule but Tuwawi's, especially when the Glacier rightfully belonged to her, and if the ember queen would not retake her throne then Týrr would take it for her ...or attempt to anyway.
Týrr drew in a deep breath as he moved, mindful of the treacherous footholds that would take him down to the Arrow Lake's shoreline. Walking the footholds, though, was as easy to the Rekkr as breathing and though he could suffer greatly with a single miss-slip he was comfortable with it. Heights had never bothered him, likely a product of Coatl's Rise and his time spent at Tartok. He reached the end of the slope and padded onto the shoreline, his prize laying before him, the frosted waters glistening every so often in the sunlight that appeared to be playing hide and go seek with the world. He padded to the water's edge, bent his head and lapped eagerly at the refreshing, albeit cold water with the obvious intent of sating his thirst. What he did after that, he had not yet planned that far.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
----
The moment her wanderlust infected her want and need to explore, was also the moment her mind began to get lost into thoughts. Aimlessly, without a true destination, her paws took her away from Stavanger Bay to conquer the wild, open plains and see what was beyond. An adventurous spirit hoped that she would experience things beyond her wildest imagination but when reality pulled her back down to earth, she knew it was quite a struggle to live, and an even greater one to thrive well within the realms of this world.
The yearling had yet to grasp a lot of this complex world, still she found peace within the pack that she joined, Stavanger Bay. She never expected that the pack meant living inside a sanctuary and that she had a place and a family to come home to. Actually, it really good but also really strange, foreign even. Her past hadn't allowed her to experience much want, to be welcomed even if pack live was also hard work. Hard work together, as a team; somewhere where she belonged. To experience the good, the bad and the ugly together. Her happiness for a home hadn't, however, allowed her wild edges to completely disappear into thin air since she was still the teen who sometimes got into trouble. Still, she had grown more homey.
Oops! Spectra slipped due to the treacherous ground underneath. She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings as her thoughts blindsided her attention. There, Spectra fell flat on her face. It could have been quite a funny and quizzical sight but she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her right paw as she got up once more. Though moving forward without serious injury, the midnight-painted wolf had learned a rather painful lesson. At this point a few curse words had slipped from her leathery lips. Spectra was about to head back home when another wolf caught her eyesight. It wasn't just any wolf that her golden eyes caught in the distance, it was the sight of a hubba hubba hot shot. Suddenly she froze for a second as she felt her heart starting to thumb inside her chest without a good reason for doing so.
Moving forward with the speed of a snail, Spectra felt twelve years old all over again all the sudden. Here she was in high school, the loner or the freak, staring and gawking at the popular soccer boy. Her mind was tangled up into bits and pieces, there was no back-up plan if anything would go wrong. Her mind was a blank slate, Spectra also felt rather clueless what to say once she crept up to him. A little awkward, Spectra huffed and puffed a single. "Hi!" For once, she wasn't a smart ass.
Týrr drew in a deep breath through his nose once his head lifted up from the icy surface of the water, droplets of the crisp, cool water stuck to the hairs of his chin before his salmon pink tongue drew across his lips once in an attempt to free them. He could feel the cool water settle in his stomach, chilling him from the inside out for a moment though it passed with a relative quickness. This was not the Rekkr's first trip to this lake, hard to find though it was, made treacherous by the footpath needed to get down to it but it was worth the danger he'd always thought. It was a beautiful tucked away little oasis and it genuinely surprised him that someone had yet to take advantage of that, though considered it's closeness to both Swiftcurrent Creek and The Sunspire as likely the main reason why no one had sought to claim it for themselves. The wolves of these Wilds were territorial, understandably, and would not take kindly to those who were stupid enough to settle so close to the claimed lands of another. Over the sound of the lake moving beneath the cracking ice that had once formed but had begun to melt with the warmer climates they'd been experiencing lately there was something that sounded of clattering rocks in the distance, though the Rekkr paid them no mind despite that the urge to look back was a strong one.
It could have been a mini landslide caused by the melting snow, or it could be another slipping upon the path but either way wasn't too bothered sure that his company would not be so willingly sought; however, the sound of approaching footfalls soon followed after a low stream of curses that Týrr had barely caught, caused the Rekkr's ears to swivel back in the direction of the other. It wasn't until the huff and a puffed Hi touched his ears did he turn to face her, his crystalline blue eyes falling upon the ebony draped girl (young woman?) whom had spoken to him. Her greeting had a breathless sort of thing, but Týrr assumed it was nothing more than exertion from her trip down the foothold to the lake's shore. Hello,
The Rekkr offered her as black, leathery nostrils flared to inhale the scents that clung to her pelt. She had traveled, that much he could tell, but underlining that he could smell Stavanger Bay upon her, Ragnar's scent the most prominent and familiar to Týrr.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Spectra wasn't sure what or how she felt, but all the thoughts prior to this meeting were long since forgotten. Instead it felt as if, at this point, all that existed was this hot shot of a wolf. The entire scenery simply faded away as time itself came to a standstill. This awkward, strange and yet captivating moment appeared to be lasting until the end of time. Her heart beat faster than usual and she could feel the rush of adrenaline making her more alert and at the same time more anxious than normal; what was going on? It felt as if she was hit by lightning, a strange sensation that was both energizing as nerve-wracking.
"Da-yum!" The yearling said out of the blue while her mind couldn't actually think straight. She was on auto-pilot; weird mode. "You're really a hot shot!" Impulse-driven, Spectra just said straight what she thought about him and the situation. In the mean time she was probably making a fool out of herself; but in a situation like this she was new and inexperienced -- definitely not a pick-up line that she was saying to every random stranger. But, with this sort of eye candy in sight, how could she not?
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
All that she could see while she walked, blindfolded into the lands of the unknown, was this hot shot specimen of a wolf standing right in front of her. Her words weren't driven by the heat of nature during the right season or by the sheer impact of lust alone. No, this sudden crush was probably fired off by a youthful naivety and a damaged history of her own, painful past. It appeared as though the past was in a rush to be on a rampage course of repeat, something that Spectra would not enjoy. For now, however, the midnight-painted female did enjoy the attention of the warrior wolf.
Yeah! Spectra replied without using words, instead a heartfelt sigh busted from her leathery lips as she admired every feature of him. At this point he appeared to be a picture perfect, the way he was made, shaped and hardened by the world. When Tyrr introduced himself as Óðinn, the name suddenly sparked a familiarity that she heard before. Odin, Odin, Odin.. " Óðinn !" After a pensive pause in which she recollected her thoughts for a moment, the image of Thistle Cloud, Alpha of Stavanger Bay appeared. She had said that Odinn was their God and that he lead her to Stavanger Bay.
Spectra still did not understand one thing though, what was a God?
"So you're the dude who -- Thistle Cloud said -- to have lead me to Stavanger Bay. That God guy they all follow. So pleasure to meet you mister Óðinn God!" Nervously, she started to ramble, but not until releasing the final piece of information; "The name is Spectra!"
Smaller steps were required however, and the Rekkr returned his attentions back to the Bay girl. She repeated the name, Óðinn, how strong are you now? for even as the Rekkr prepared to besmirch the name of the supposedly great Allfather no fire rained from the sky, nothing struck him dead. The Gods did not exist, and the lack of consequences only served to encouraged that thought. It took all of Týrr's might not to grind his teeth in well concealed aggravation as the girl explained that she knew the name. Of course she did. Of course Ragnar's little whore masquerading as Earl had spoken about Odin. There Thistle Cloud was again ruining everything and she wasn't anywhere near him!
He hated them, he realized. He hated them all. Ragnar. Thistle Cloud. Their pathetic excuse for a son: Gunnar. Eirikr and Gyda too, while he was at it. They had all messed up his life, even if they didn't realize they had done it. Ragnar had stolen everything from him, Thistle had exposed the lies, and their children...well it was true that none of them had ruined his life yet, but given their parentage the Rekkr would expect nothing less. While Týrr had not expected the Bay girl to know of Odin, still, he was not so ready to count this as a waste for she seemed convinced that he was actually the God. She struck him harshly with her innocence and the naivety in which she believed him (though in all fairness she had assumed he was the God first). It was almost crushing enough to make him want to change his mind. But he was an Amazon. And a Viking, and ruthless was in their blood.
“That's right,” Týrr purled at her, looking at her through lowered lids, peeking at her through his lashes, as a soft churr of a chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Just Óðinn is fine, Spectra,” He spoke demurely, shrugging off the 'god' part as if he were attempting to be modest. Týrr knew this was wrong. He who had once lived by a strict moral code of honor. There was nothing remotely princely about his intentions, arrogant by the false pretenses and hungry for her continued admiration. It was a high from the surge of hormones within him, plagued by his ferocious need for vengeance upon Ragnar. In a moment of doubt, some part of his consciousness kicked in giving the question: was he willing to step on the innocent to get to Ragnar and did that make him any better? Essentially, he had been nothing but a way to get at Quetzalcoatl. Was it fair to bring into the middle those that had nothing to do with it? Even so, he was inquisitive having never had the chance to explore the curiosity that was females or to discover his own prowess in such matters.
With morality digging it's way into his heart and mind, he was filled with trepidation, but if nothing else he was willing to play and figured since he had instigated he had no choice but to keep his charade up. For now, the Rekkr was silent, allowing her to take the lead in the conversation for the sake of wanting to play the enigma.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
Through her yearling naivety she was awestruck and a little in love by his sheer presence, but the day would come that she realized that she was nothing more than a pawn, manipulated to harbour vengeance on the leader that she followed; not a god. One born from flesh and blood. Had she known Tyrr's partly Viking heritage and the game that he played, she would call him weak and unimpressive; just a simple shadow compared to how highly she thought of him now. Vikings were strong, especially her male brethren; they fought to the core by strength and not by chance and cunning alone. There was fear behind manipulation, fear to face a true opponent on a real battlefield. He was no warrior, only a coward who would run with a tail between his legs. Oh, if only Spectra knew.
Instead at this moment she was swimming in the river of innocence and drowning in a juvenile naivety. She was literally swooning by his handsomeness and felt honoured to meet him, God or no God. Desperation for attention and admiration for his presence, she felt a conflict of feelings surging through her body. All the sudden Spectra became aware of every hair upon her body; everything had to be perfect -- especially the way she looked. This want and need of vanity came with the desire to be seen as a pretty girl, one that was worth the mere glimpse from Óðinn. Although many things, Spectra was hardly shy and it translated into a confrontational directness as teenage hormones surged through her body.
He was a rock star and she was just a fun. One of the many fan girls he probably had; stand in line and pick a ticket. "The same just Óðinn who would ask a pretty girl out on a date?" Bulls eye, a direct question that she later on regretted asking. Her heart began to beat faster and her golden eyes were thrown into the distance, if she could swallow every word back into her mouth she would. But it was too late. First impressions weren't her forte but it was probably better to ask now instead of regretting it later and wasting a lot of her time talking about the birds and the daisies.
Týrr was many things but he did not consider himself a coward for willing to think, what he considered to be, outside of the box. After all, he had learned technique from Ragnar himself. Battles were not always won by sheer brute force. Battles could be won by out thinking your enemy. The Rekkr had lost count of how many times Ragnar had barked that at him over the months. Cunning was what Ragnar was good at, and Týrr would easily claim that he had learned from the best in that scenario. The truth was Spectra was just a pretty girl caught in the wrong pack; despite that in truth Týrr held no ill will towards the Bay. Only their leaders. He wouldn't have minded Thistle, either, he supposed, if she wasn't so disillusioned and blinded by the love for Ragnar, unwilling to accept what she truly was to the scarred Viking: a toy. Another girl in a long line of girls. So long as she could bear Ragnar healthy sons then Týrr guessed her usefulness would continue but it brought with it the consideration of what would happen if she couldn't. It wasn't his concern and he held no love for Ragnar or his family. How could he? When they had lied to him, exposed the truth to him and then expected him to be okay with it.
Spectra's question was direct and for a moment derailed the Rekkr. A ...date? For a stalwart moment Týrr was silent in a contemplative manner, studying her with sweeping crystalline blue eyes. Spectra was pretty, he supposed, younger than him if he had to guess, but she wasn't Tuwawi. It was the ember that the Rekkr truly wanted, though the logical part of Týrr had accepted that it might never happen, that the only them between Tuwawi and himself might never move to anything more than Queen and Subordinate. He wasn't stupid after all; simply ambitious. It seemed that for the most part the Rekkr had a thing for fire-kissed women/girls, if his initial crush on Fox and now his crush upon Tuwawi was of any indication. Still, even if he decided to drop his intentions of getting at Ragnar (though the whole Odinn thing would do enough of it for the Rekkr's current satisfaction), he could likely use the experience of having a ...date since as far as he could currently remember he'd never had one before; and when he was trying to impress an older woman he did not want to come off as a bumbling boy that had no idea what he was doing.
“Sure,” Týrr agreed with an easy smile.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
---
Then.came.the.anxious.moment.of.waiting. Spectra felt like a straightforward hero for even mentioning the word date without making half a fool of herself. Her teeth gritted together as she waited breathlessly for his answer. If he would say no it would be awkward and slightly painful but at the same time easy since it was unlikely she would ever see him again afterwards. She hadn't actually thought about the likelihood he would say yes, and there more important, the moments or what-to-do thereafter.
But after the everlasting moment had subsided, a miracle happened right in her backyard. The unexpected twist of the century. A series of fortunate events. Or maybe she was exaggerating a little; regardless she was half surprised and half in awe the moment he said yes. Wait what? He.said.yes. It took a few moments to realize that he gave a positive reply. Blinking with her eyes, Spectra made sure she wasn't asleep, dreaming a happy dream.
Now what, Romeo? Spectra hadn't anticipated this future and it wasn't as if she was in candy-candy land already imagine what it was like doing long romantic moonwalks and sweet serenades with this guy. She was a hopeless romantic without actually a true romantic bone in her body. Spectra was more of a thrill girl, adventurous and daring. "Then I double dog date dare you to meet me three nights from now at midnight close to Arrow Lake." She knew that Arrow Lake was not for the faint-hearted and Spectra wondered if he actually pull through; if he accepted the dare and showed up. The teenage fan girl had suddenly turned into a coy young woman, one who definitely wouldn't sit still and wait on just any man; even though Óðinn captivated her in more ways than one.
Not that his Viking brethren had cared about that, any.
The Amazon's...he didn't know, though he remembered just enough, though still barely nothing, about them to know that even if he did have memories intact they would likely be of no real help to him. He was one of a kind in their world. Men were slaves to the women rulers and warriors, and a small few were selected when a female went into heat and with her Queen's blessing made the selected fight to the death in a brutal gladiator like manner with the winner as the one allowed to breed. So, yes, that knowledge alone offered Týrr all that he needed to know, that even his memories as Tezcacoatl would be utterly useless to him in this situation. Chocolate ears cupped forth as she triple dog dared him to meet in three moons close to Arrow Lake. At least she had picked a location that the Rekkr knew fairly well. It was not often he ventured far from the Glacier but he had made the trip to Arrow Lake a few times now, unperturbed by the treacherous path one had to take to find it. "Triple dog dare accepted." The Rekkr told her with a challenge accepted curl look in his eyes, his lips curling upwards into a tease of a devious grin.
a crime so old as the sky and bone
---
The world of custom traditions and cultures was one she hadn't quite even began to understand just yet. Her perspective of the world was very open-minded but also restricted by her own experience of the world. She was only slowly getting infected with the Viking culture but much of the Amazonian culture remained unknown to her. If she had known about the last culture -- and the fact that woman were in control -- she might have thought it to be a very cool thing. Despite her liberal-mindedness she held no interest into being anyone's slave or concubine for that matter, she was by far too wild spirited and rebellious to be that.
Determination was written all over her face when she had double-triple dog dared him. Her tail wavered softly to and fro and her ears stood erect, it was definitely a now or never situation. To her contentment the God-like wolf accepted her daring proposal with a teasing gesture that caused an immediate rogue-like grin to appear upon her facial features. "See ya!" Were the last words of Spectra -- who was too excited for her own good -- as she hastily turned around while nearly tripping over her own feet before she dashed away like a dot into the shadow. She needed time to prepare for this date but most of all, time to allow everything to settle in. The previous moments felt like an adrenaline-rushing rollercoaster.