The bird carefully maintained its distance, occasionally pecking at Tyr's dislodged cranium. "Oh yes. All Asgardians can die. The only question becomes, 'Will he stay dead?'" The bird said casually as Creed ripped armor away and fumbled to secure it. "This one may rise again. He is beloved of Hela, queen of the dead. She may call him back from oblivion to sit at her side once more."
With that bit of information the bird looked at Creed again, fully clothed in Asgardian armor save for the right-hand gauntlet that Tyr lacked. It fluttered. "A nice fit, Master." It said in a gravelly chuckle then flew up onto the feral's shoulder once more. "So now we go back! I do so love to watch you work...."