"Speak not of loneliness," he says, eyes darkening even as the moonlight shines above. He knows it well, and yet, has never known it - he has always had his brother, and the idea that he represents, that he is. The idea that it will end, so fuck it all if idle human emotion has began infiltrate his mind.
He will not her fall. That is not to say he does not act on whims.
He knows not of what she speaks, nor remembers. Memories of those not currently on this plane - Angrboda, in particularly, for he would know if she was here, as they all would. Something that old would not go unnoticed by the children of the Iarnvidiur.
He inhales a long, cold breath, looks into her silvery eyes for a moment - they reflect the light where his do not - and his grip on her tightens. He sways on his feet, on the railing. A car is coming. The sun is beginning to rise, yet unseen - there are so many buildings in the way of the sun, now. There are no wolves chasing her, nor her brother.
Muscles tighten, tense, and knees bend.
And with the goddess of the crossroads in his arms, Hati leaps off the railing, toward the dark of the water below as the sky starts to lighten above.