With Tythas to shroud their steps and remove the traces they left behind, and Astrid's counter divination wards – they were absolutely sure Tyr couldn't sense them. He didn't seem to, either. Walking with a steady, almost leisurely stride. Greeting people familiar with his likeness with a smile. He stood out, so following him was easy even without magic.
Hair like that was not common, and his height was what it was. His behavior wasn't unacceptable, Tyr had suddenly become this shining, smiling man. Full of joy, and all too happy to see these common people. Rubbing the heads of children and dazzling all in his presence. It was ridiculous, to the point where Alex wasn't quite sure if that was the Tyr she remembered. Even in better days when they were children he hadn't been like that, he'd always been unruly, wild, although never shy – he didn't bond with strangers. It was him though, it had to be. Nobody felt or smelled the way he did, and Okami wasn't going to follow around a skin-changer.
“For gods sakes...” Tythas' brow creased. Tyr was in the process of helping a middle class elderly couple out of their humble carriage with a smile and an outstretched arm. Reaching inside to take their bags for them, not taking no for an answer. His eyes twinkling as much as his smile did, bowing respectfully to the 'honored elders' as he referred to them. “This is too much, isn't it?” Tythas whispered. “This is some kind of game, right? A prank?”
“Unfortunately not.” Alex frowned. “He does this every other day, at least.”
“Maybe he is trying to be a better person?” Micah inputted. “It's not like he was evil to begin with...”
Before the sentence had ended Tyr had taken another corner and they followed. Finding a trio of men hogtied and beaten black and blue. There was a soft whispering sound of a cloak on the roof opposite the alley. A wisp of black just barely visible as it vanished over the edge. Tyr was at the end of the alley helping a merchant fix the sagging support of his stall. Lifting up the wooden frame with a lazy shrugging of his shoulders, purchasing an apple for himself and declaring it 'the best he'd ever had'. Very loudly, until the merchant's stall was swarming with customers.
All while the shadows flickered from the rooftops.
Blackguard, must be, that ridiculous name Tyr had given to Tiber and the less savory individuals he ran about with. As for the men tied up, it was pretty obvious by the law enforcement flare laying on the ground and the very feminine coinpurse beside it that they were thieves or pickpockets.
“Well that's something.” Micah observed. “He's like a superhero...”
“Shut up, Micah. Please... Just shut up.”
Maybe... Alex was frustrated and confused, staring down at the very much alive men Tyr had encountered. She doubted it was by accident, he'd taken an inconsistent and circuitous route through the city, likely stalking the thieves for some time. And Tyr was strong, he'd only been getting more powerful over time, killing a normal man with a slap would've been easy for him.
Even if he is faking, he didn't kill those men. Unless he knows we're onto him and wanted to throw us off the trail...
She was trapped between a thought that maybe she'd had some sort of positive influence on not only her husband, but her friend.
'Friend'.
That, and wondering if they were caught up in some mind game. In the end, she still doubted. Alex trusted Tyr more than anyone else in her life, even her father. She didn't know why, but she did. Trusted him to behave in the manner she expected, at least – which made it uncomfortable to her because there was nothing expected in this at all. Everything Tyr had ever done before was in character, everything. There were never any big surprises with someone who was known for being violent and impulsive. Sometimes there were little things, but they were human things, things she could empathize with. Thank you's and unexpected apologies for minor favors. But never like this, Tyr was not selfless, he wasn't a hero – he was a nihilistic pragmatist with a whimsical side, and exceptionally self-possessed. Rude, ill tempered, and scornful.
“He's going to give us the slip if we let him.” Sigi patted her back encouragingly.
There weren't 'slums' in Amistad. Most cities had a district dedicated to the poor and less fortunate, but Amistad tended to simply kick them out. There were no beggars and urchins, and crime was relatively rare in previous years – but people were on edge nowadays. Population controls weren't quite working as intended and some of the middle councilors were almost certainly corrupt. They'd been struck a blow and had yet to truly recover after Hastur's last attack. Some mages in important positions had fled the city altogether, leaving them high and dry.
In any case, there was a 'low town' or 'old town'. Named for no identifiable reason since Amistad was built on a completely flat artificial shelf of dirt and rock. Low, perhaps named for the people who lived there.
Minor laborers and non-mages for the most part. It wasn't a place of shady business, only a residential district and a few small chapels. As with everywhere else in the city, it was clean and tidy, though the houses were certainly more worn down than those closer to the city center. The people here looked as happy as anywhere else. A bit anxious, just like the others, but if Hastur's targets were mages as rumored – many of these people had nothing much to worry about.
Alex noted how many non-humans there were. More beastkin that she'd been aware resided in this city. Allowed to stay even without the ability to manipulate mana. Grandfathered in, they said, if you continued working – you could stay. Even in this city there weren't enough mages to handle all the mundane jobs. Mana wasn't, as Tyr had said, an 'easy button' or a solution to every problem. Without the more common people living on the outskirts near the walls, the infrastructure of the city would collapse. They still needed people to labor. Things mages might think 'below' them, and they weren't permitted by the Krieg Conventions to replace this workforce with automata.
“This is it. A dead end.” The streets here were winding and less organized, the buildings were older too – in obvious fashion. Perhaps the city itself had been built around a town or village that had once existed in this place. The winding was a problem though. Everywhere in Amistad one could see down one street to two others with few exceptions – straight as arrows. It closed off their line of sight and the differences in building height made it hard to watch the rooftops. But she knew they were up there, Tiber and the others. Watching them.
A loud clanging and a startled scream came from the end of the alley. Brenn had had enough, drawing his shield and hammer from his dimensional storage ring and rounding the corner. His steps were smooth, efficient, and well drilled. But that didn't stop the silver-blue tip of a blade from pricking his neck with expert precision. Weaving through his guard like a snake to catch him unawares.
“Hands or die.” Tiber said calmly. His face was free of any hood and he didn't wear a cloak like the others that Alex could now see on the rooftops. Looming over the cul-da-sac of tightly clustered buildings like crows.
Tiber looks so young... Alex furrowed her brow, staring at the familiar man – who looked to be in the best shape of his life...
Brenn grunted, letting his weapons disappear and folding his hands behind his head. As did the rest, facing a dozen men with bows in full draw in their hands. Likely more of them, somewhere close by. They had not yet entered the widening point at the end of the street and couldn't see Tyr. Held at the corner as Tiber used the tip of his exquisite longsword to pull Brenn's hood from his face.
“That's a familiar looking lad.” Tiber pursed his lips and squinted up at Brenn. “You've grown. Apologies for the blade, but you'll all be leaving now, if you'd be so kind. That's not a threat, but a request. Please leave.”
“Hello Tiber.” Alex grimaced. “I'm assuming you had us pegged the entire time?”
“That I did, Lady Alexis.” Tiber replied. “Wouldn't ever have expected it was you.” He said this, calm and respectful, but he did not lower his sword. “Best be on your way. Won't tell the prince you were following him around like some prey animal. Impressive magic you've got, but he does not wish to be disturbed at this time.”
“I'm afraid we'll have to decline.” Sigi had not released her weapon, that gunmetal crescent greataxe patterned with silver runes, given to her by Tyr with Astrid as the proxy. “I'll be seeing what he's up to, feel free to try and stop me.”
Tiber sighed. He was blackguard, but dawnguard too – both by oath. Just because the order didn't exist anymore in technicality didn't mean he would forget his promises. The princesses had, and always would have equal standing with him in comparison with Tyr from that standpoint of duty. “I really wish you wouldn't. Tyr has taken great strides to improve his character and I do not want to see it reverted by embarrassment and bad blood. He is finally making progress in becoming a better man and has grown since last you saw him, just leave it be.”
Tiber would budge if they asked him too. Always would, and the blackguard would never harm them either, even now the bows were lowered and the draw slackened. Samson had put away his own weapon and was staring at the girls, a glitter of warm welcome in his eyes. One of Tyr's rules had always been to protect them with a priority over himself, even in the bad times. Even if they were coming to kill him, or vice versa. They'd all sworn to it, in blood, the princesses came first.
“Move, Tiber.” Alex made to cross the threshold and round the corner, but Tiber – much to both of their surprise – stopped her. Bodily blocking her from approaching, surprising himself as much as them – to be honest.
“Please, Alex.” He didn't often use a familiar tone with her. Tiber was and always had been a hard man to read, an honorable man but a killer all the same. She could tell how important it was to him that she stop, but there was no resistance when she shoved him aside. Him begging on Tyr's behalf only made her more intent to find out what he was up to.
“...”
“What is it?” Brenn hissed. Tiber's blade had been lowered from his neck but he was still cautious. There were many swordsman among the faith militant that impressed him, but Tiber had moved at a pace that had taken him completely unawares.
Astrid wasn't some sort of joke either, her divination was second to none at the academy and between her and Sigi their ability to remain prescient of events around them was unrivaled. Yet somehow these non-mages had managed to take them unawares, something very unexpected. He was the last to round the corner with the others, keeping a wary eye on the two men on the ground level in particular – though neither Samson nor Tiber made a move to indicate violence of any sort.
There was a yard full of children and a middle aged woman presiding over them all. Dozens of them, and the sign indicated that this place was an orphanage. Not only children, but also men and women missing some extremities were in attendance.
There was a large table placed in the center the courtyard, covered in pots and pans of steaming food. Tyr, one of many in a long line of ladle handlers, was spooning soup into bowls and handing it out to a queue of people as the children went about their business. Wearing a bright pink apron printed with the words 'Kiss The Chef' on the front of it.
Children playing and laughing, shouting about this or that. From this vantage point, with all of the people around him, Alex and the others could observe freely – the cloaks ensuring they were hard to make out as anything but more blackguard from this distance.
“Big brother?”
“Yes, little one?”
“I'm not little, I'm a lady!” A small girl stomped her foot against the flagstones in agitation. On second observation, the end of this cul-da-sac, the circular ring of houses were all in brand new condition and the roadway looked recently re-paved. There were no cracks in the mortar whatsoever, and there was a clear sign of recent repair to the orphanage itself. People streamed by, thanking Tyr and the others assisting him. Smiling at him as he spoke to the tiny child.
“Of course you are.” Tyr smiled down at the girl brightly, and Alex shuddered in the seeing of it, this was not like it had been in the classroom. There was no question whether or not this was sincere, or an act, it was definitively the former. She could tell that the friends accompanying her felt the same, their eyebrows lowering in unison. There was a difference in the smile he was giving them versus what she'd seen before.
In comparison, Tyr's 'glittering' smiles was more of a grimace. This one was... Suffice it to say that her heart ached at how incredibly beautiful and angelic he was. Haunting, managing to capture the brightness of the sun and cool solitude of the moon all at once. It was so honest, bereft of anything but raw positive emotion, hard to believe that it sat on that mans face. Feeling that way... She was jealous. Of a little girl! Almost angry because he'd never smiled at her like that, not since they were five or six years of age. “Would you like seconds?”
“N-no...” The little girl rubbed the toe of a bizarrely fashionable boot into the ground. Something a commoner should not be able to afford. If not for the fact that the girls outfit appeared to be brand new and freshly tailored, and the setting of course, Alex would've thought the girl a child of some noble. “I just...”
“Be bold, Henrietta.” The middle aged woman next to Tyr chuckled happily. “Remember what brother Tyr said? Always speak your mind and never be afraid to let your inner thoughts show. Don't you want to show him how much help he's been to us little folk?”
“You're not little, Mother Mary.” Tyr didn't smile at her. Didn't look at all like he did when he was looking at the little girl, but there was still warmth and familiarity when he addressed her. “Just like Henny, right? You're both big, strong, beautiful women with kind hearts.”
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He finally smiled at that, winking at the older woman and passing a bowl to the next person in line. This 'Mary' blushed, turning her face away slightly. Astrid couldn't blame her, this wasn't Tyr.
Whoever it was, though, was incredibly charming, a magnet for affection. She wanted to punch him right in the face, surprised at how violent her emotion over all of this was. Unlike Alex, she was not angry in the slightest, but it was maddening. She wanted to shake him until his neck broke and then nurse him back to health... Or something...? What were these feelings? They concerned even her, far be it for Astrid to admit she felt such a strange way to any other, except for him not so long ago.
“Right?” Tyr asked, putting a hand on 'Henny's' head and ruffling her hair.
“Yeah!” Henrietta shouted, before blurting out something else. “Will you be... my dad?”
The wave of mana that erupted after that question was asked was enough to make the dust about the streets blow away, the awnings fluttering as Tyr's face sank in sorrow. Any mage could feel it, but those nearest him were not mana sensitive, those who were... There was mourning, and a poorly masked rage burning at the center of it – hot and cold. A kind of sadness that could shatter steel to dust.
“Your dad...?” Tyr raised an eyebrow suddenly, the sensation swept away. “I'm not sure I understand. Sorry, kiddo, but I'm not very smart.”
“Oh, pish.” Mary swatted him with a washcloth and frowned. She didn't like self deprecating behavior among children. And Tyr was a child, in body or not. Adults had complexity to them, a heavy bitterness, and he had none of that from her perspective. He was just a little damaged, but otherwise he was no different than the many teenagers she'd raised over the years. “Her school is hosting an event in some regard to showing off their parents and talking about what they do for work. But you know, with so many orphans these days...”
“Ah...” Tyr nodded. “Doesn't that sound boring, though?”
“...Boring?” Henrietta asked innocently.
“How about...” Tyr pondered for a moment. “How about I give your class and all the other parents a full tour of the academy, eh? Then we'll show them how great you are. As your big brother, though. I'm not ready to be a father just yet.” He smiled widely. “Does that work?”
Henrietta wasn't of an age where she would know how to feel about that. To these kids, orphans in particular, the chances of them getting into any academy was improbable. Some of them were mages, and in this world – hard work could beget results, even overcome talent.
Tyr knew that firsthand, from both sides of the spectrum. Typically orphans would be raised in the care of the council if they were mana sensitive, but it went to show how many people had perished in Hastur's assault. So many mothers and fathers...
But if Tyr wanted to do it, Henrietta couldn't help to feel anything but energetic excitement. After that, all of the orphans wanted to go. Some were little, no more than toddlers, but some were teens well aware that their opportunities for success were going to rapidly diminish, and very soon. Some of them felt guilty for it, but if they could utilize the resources of the prince to secure the future that had been stolen from them...
Tutors and mages didn't come to this district of the city, and they weren't old enough to be given leave to go out on their own. They were a smart group of kids. All of them wanted to grow up, but the realities of life and the calm instruction from Mary who always tried her best ensured they knew that growing up too fast would only do them harm kept them grounded. They were 'grown' enough already, forced to observe events that they shouldn't have.
It was quickly decided, Tyr's authority was such that it'd be an easy thing, he'd take all of these children under his wing – and the others – and they'd be permitted to see the academy.
Things continued like that for a while. Tiber remained silently by the side of their unwelcome guests, but he would not allow them to approach further. Not under any circumstances. Tyr was like a son to him and seeing him like this was just... What kind of father figure would want it to end? He had light inside of him and it burned so brightly, his shame would mask it typically, but here in this place he seemed so at home. So happy and free, content.
Tiber didn't like thinking it, but Tyr really was like an animal – a being with a predilection leaning towards pure instinct. Violently territorial. Shaped intimately by his environment until he was riddled with dents that weren't so easy to smooth out. He killed and harmed without a thought. Tiber was not the type of person to begrudge him that. He had been the same not so long ago, but he wanted better for his beloved boy. Always had. There had been light in the child he'd first met, the one that had put him in his place and expanded his perception of the world.
And that light had dimmed for a long time, but here it was. Back again. He could've wept, watching these events unfold.
Tiber felt his values conflicting. In his youth, Tiber had only ever cared about winning. He'd had few friends, none in all actuality as he'd eventually come to find out. But that had never bothered him and it still didn't.
“I'm getting old.” Tiber chuckled. Samson grunted in affirmation, putting a massive hand on the back of his friend and patting. He wasn't so old as to truly relate to Tiber, but he could understand the idea that a legacy became important in the later years of a man. His ambitions and drive cooled, coming to that daunting realization that he was insignificant, and the future was coming faster than he'd like.
Tiber just wanted Tyr to be happy, to be loved by people, to be the hero the boy had so eagerly wanted to become as a child. A goal that had been ripped away by a sacrifice he'd been forced to make. He'd never wanted Tyr to become Sicario, and it was his greatest regret that he'd forged the boy into just that.
They were so alike now, but Tyr still had the time necessary to grow and change. Tyr would've been the best of their order, a born slayer, and Tiber's greatest conviction was to fix the wrongs he'd committed.
Samson wanted the same, to see his Ooni thrive, to become the sun he must've assuredly been born to be. To light their way and bring peace, even if it was through fear.
“We've seen what we need to see.” Micah said. He wasn't exactly angry, but there was a look of half-smugness half-frustration on his face. Dueling emotions within him. He was glad that his assertion that Tyr wasn't some demon was correct, but he was frustrated for the same reason the others were. Perhaps he hadn't known his friend very well at all. And one other thing... “Lord Tiber was right, Tyr obviously doesn't want to be seen doing this. I don't know why, but I don't think we have to know. You wouldn't get it...”
“I agree.” Brenn sighed. “Whatever his motivations, he is doing a noble thing. Both Micah and I were raised in orphanages for a time – it means a lot to us.” By both the look and sound of it, Tyr came to this place every single day. In this way, he was a better man than Brenn himself, a hot shame burning within the man at the realization that he hadn't done much good in the world himself. Pursuant of selfish desires and progression, but very inconsistently giving to others as Her faithful were expected to.
“Alright.” Surprisingly, Alex agreed, but it was too late for that. Tyr had abruptly vanished from his spot beside Mary and was a scant few inches from Alex's face, apron, ladle, and all. She hadn't even seen him move. There was no wind to communicate he'd moved physically... How...? But he didn't know either. One moment he'd been standing and speaking with Mary and the next he was here, across the courtyard – face to face with his wife, Alexis Goldmane. Not an inch from her nose, a twitch and they'd have been connected at the lips.
“Well...” Tyr cleared his throat. The others were gawking at him while Micah's eyes shot open wide, looking excited for whatever reason. “You smell nice. Anyone want to tell me what's going on? Or more importantly, why Sigi has her weapon drawn in the presence of my children?”
My children...?
Sigi abruptly returned the axe to her dimensional storage, reddening as the eyes of everyone in the courtyard suddenly fell on them. More wonder than any kind of concern, new people didn't come here often. Whatever spell had shrouded them from the notice of others was broken as soon as Tyr fell into its radius.
“...” Alex gulped. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face, and he wasn't moving. The scent of him was intoxicating, quickening her heart in a way she couldn't explain. They'd been close many times, held one another... But this... “What a coincidence to find you here... Ha... We were just...”
“Micah, Brenn, Tythas.” Tyr nodded at the three men and they returned his greeting, two of them being considerably more shocked than the first mentioned. Tyr glared then, pointedly and only at the women. “I asked for one thing, and one thing only. Stop overthinking my purpose here, stop following me. You keep sticking your nose where it does not belong and it'll get bit.”
“Is that a threat?” Brenn glowered, arm moving beneath the cloak and preparing to grab his hammer once again. He'd protect the princesses with his life, they were his friends and true family.
“No.” Tyr looked him directly in the eye, speaking more calmly. His shoulders relaxed in realization that he'd been a little too abrupt. But then again, he hadn't expected to be pulled across the courtyard and forced into a reckoning like this. A spell that hadn't been any doing of his. “I would never bring harm to them willfully. Ever. Do not accuse me of such a thing again. You could not possibly understand what I am capable of in a place like this if I wanted to. That is a threat. Anyone and anything that would seek to disturb the peace of this place will be left as little more than ashes.”
Before he knew it, in an identical movement to Tiber, Tyr had his hand stretched out, an inch from Brenn's neck.
“Tyr.” Astrid interspersed herself between the two men, jarred. Tyr had risen to the bait so quickly and violently, far more in line with the man she thought she knew. But it was still concerning. He'd never spoken like that to any of them before. And he truly meant it, flitting effortlessly between two distinct personalities. “You cannot speak to him that way.”
“You're right.” Tyr nodded, recovering himself. “I am sorry, you were only doing what you thought was right.”
“...”
“This is incredibly awkward--”
“Big brother...?” A tiny head appeared from behind his leg, gripping at his pocket. Henrietta, the same girl that had been speaking to Tyr just moments earlier. Before their very eyes, the cold steel in Tyr's own melted away. Softening like clay and becoming impossibly warm and affectionate again. It was almost psychotic... “Who are these people? Are they your friends?”
What the hell...? Alex couldn't seem to voice the question. Tyr had never liked children. He wasn't cruel to them, he had always seemed to merely tolerate them for the most part until that day where the boy had perished in his arms. Was that some kind of trigger for this reversal in personality, some kind of trauma induced development in character? Or was he always this soft hearted, only hiding it from others to avoid the pain that came from attachment?
“I think so.” Tyr knelt, brushing her messy hair behind her ears and straightening her shirt. All of the children here were dressed unisex. In fine clothes, bundled up in doublets and shiny leather boots that looked a bit out of place for the humble environment.
“You think so...?” She asked.
“I was not very nice to them.” Tyr said gently. “Someone was unkind to me and in many ways you could say I took it out on these people who didn't deserve it. I was very ashamed for a long time about that, but I suppose through one twist of fate or another we're back together again.”
“You should be nice to your friends.” Henrietta tutted, very adult-like all of a sudden. In a place like this, it wasn't odd for 'siblings' to take contrary roles. Young ones would become the 'big sis', maturing out of necessity. “Mother says it's okay to be mean as long as you say that you're sorry.”
Tyr rose, pivoted to face them, and bowed at a ninety degree angle. Bowed... His face parallel to the ground... “I am truly sorry for ignoring you for so long. There are other things, but I'm not eloquent enough to phrase them properly. I hope we can be friends again, one day if not as soon as possible.”
Inside, he was burning. Tyr hadn't done anything explicitly bad, it's not like he'd hurt them in any way – all he'd done is left to pursue his own ambitions, as any man or woman had a right to, and they still would not stop hounding him.
A clash between the ridiculous arrogance of these people, his 'friends' and their constant nagging, versus the warmth here. He still didn't know why he felt this way, and that's why he'd come. Because it felt good, this was a heavenly experience to him every time. Children were so pure and innocent that he was lifted up by their presence. He quite literally became stronger, but it would fade quickly once he'd left. Tyr wasn't here out of the goodness of his heart and would never claim to be, but he did enjoy it for what it was. He cared, but again there was that anxiety of his own aspect enforcing itself on both him and everyone else in proximity.
Mama Mary was an extraordinary woman. An Agoronian immigrant and orphan herself who'd lost her sons and husband to one thing or another, and instead of collapsing under that tragedy, she'd sworn herself to Freyja and became the mother of this orphanage. It reminded him of that old question he'd been asked once. Was it better to be inherently good, or to be gray and still endeavor to do the right thing? He knew that she saw him for who he was, in some respects, but if such a kind woman treated him so well – he couldn't be all bad. And he liked that, too. The validation that he lusted for was rife in this place, it was sacred to him beyond the holiest mountains or best dressed cathedral.
Every child was a sun, and he would nurture and protect them with all of his lives. End worlds, wipe the slate clean if only it meant ensuring they didn't grow up like the rest. The sickening poison of society that made adults so weak and disgusting.
“I was never bothered in the first place, if it helps.” Tythas replied awkwardly, the others seemed too caught up in their own misgivings or shock. He felt much the same way Tyr did. Alex was being incredibly selfish and unnecessarily focused on what a man did with his time. It's not like Tyr was a drunken lout wasting away in a dreamleaf den, brothel, or alehouse. He was an adult man doing what he wanted to do. Sigi was more angry about it than she let on, but Tythas didn't know why. Even now, facing this surprising turn of events, she was still scowling and drumming her fingers against her thigh, which was a bad sign if he knew her at all. At times like this, he was happy to 'play for the other team', women were... Confusing. “This is pretty psychotic behavior though, I have concerns – but whether you answer them or not is up to you.”
“Same.” Micah added happily. “I think you're great!”
Brenn nodded in equitable fashion. “I forgive you. I was only ever disappointed that you upset the girls who've become family to me. It still bothers me, but I always considered us friends. You're just not a very good one sometimes, but we all have faults. Learn from error and don't do it again.” There was more, of course, but this would have to serve for now. The only way he could prevent Tyr from ruining more of the things he cared about was to watch him closely and stop him if such a thing came to pass.
“Our knight in shining armor.” Sigi spat sarcastically. “I couldn't give a rat's--”
“Language.” Tyr warned, steel eyed again. To be truthful, he'd been much crude in the presence of Farron in the past. He didn't really know why he was being so hypocritical now. Then again, holding others to a standard not maintained by the self was always easier. At least the boy was well into his teens, so there was that, almost a man now. “Where'd Astrid...? Ah.”
“Playing with others with a similar level of common sense, looks like.” Micah laughed, until Sigi thumped him hard in the ribs and sent him doubling over with a cough. Astrid was off greeting all of the children as 'Tyr's first wife' and laughing along as they danced and climbed all over Samson who had escorted her into their presence. The big man seated himself so as not to cause any of them injury, looking troubled but no less amused at the energetic children hanging precariously from his long braids.
It must've been painful, but as usual, he never complained. A man that could be told to quarry and move a mountain, and he'd do so if there was a necessity to it.
As for Alex... She wasn't the type to be satisfied with much of anything, let alone this. Dragging Tyr off by his collar as Henrietta promised the others that she would be a much kinder wife when she was married.