From the moment he'd encountered the goddess on the branch, Bragi hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her for more than one tiniest fraction of a second. The lovely tree maiden who loved birds more than anything in the nine worlds and spat fire through the corners of her teeth when she spoke. When he had mentioned the sheer amount of trees in the forest, Bragi had meant to do a wide sweeping gesture. His hands had the tendency to naturally speak up and verify whatever his mouth said. Bragi refrained because subconsciously he knew it would require moving his head.
But then she presented the impossible argument. Her eyes renarrowed with that fierce contrary resolve that he'd hoped he'd defeated. In those eyes, he saw every stationary bucket of water for miles inexplicably boiling over. Bragi was wrong because he was wrong. For the first time in their conversation, Bragi didn't know what to say next. That was not something Bragi could reason away with any amount of eloquence. To reason there must be reason. Some sort of an opening. He didn't see one. She'd slammed the door and taken the doorknob with her. It looked like despite his best efforts he had lost the war after all. Bragi stopped smiling and looked up as if the small twiggy branches above the goddess's head held some kind of an answer. The smile crept back in full force.
His eyes darted back to the goddess immediately, and pretended they'd never left. But they had. And now Bragi and the universe had an inside joke that he was trying desperately not to laugh at or give away. Now he needed those eyes to dehydrate him. He needed to evaporate and find every last bit of delicious irony irrelevant. Instead, she gave Bragi something even better, and he blinked. She gave him that rare glimpse of herself that he had watched so carefully for. That shining snatch Bragi had been terrified he'd miss if he looked away for even one moment. Because even though he'd completely soaked in what she looked like, even though those green eyes were going to haunt him forever, Bragi hadn't seen her yet. She was a wobbly reflection, and Bragi was still waiting for the lake water to settle. All thoughts of anything else fell off the tree.
At least until a second later when she spoke again. Bragi's shoulders shook slightly. He brought his fist to his mouth as if he was considering her bird statement, and tried not to look as horribly amused as he was. “The bird should be even easier because it's smaller,” he managed with forced composure. He was trying so hard not to laugh, that had she done anything else after that, Bragi might not have noticed. But she didn't do something else. She did what Bragi had been waiting for since he'd met her.
She smiled.
Bragi was so swept up and lost in it, that he didn't realize she'd left until she was already halfway down the tree. He didn't protest. A deal was a deal, and after all, Bragi definitely got the better end. Instead he slid down to the next lowest branch and leaned all the way over, holding onto another branch up and straight ahead so he wouldn't fall. “Bye Rosy.” Bragi called down to her.
Then he pulled himself up to his original seat, and looked up at the branch just above where the goddess's head used to be. “Rosy:” Bragi said to her bird, “Reflecting an optimistic future or good fortune. Of blush color.” Then he laughed. After a few moments, Bragi left too. He was her epiphany. Her smile was his. Bragi had a girl to break up with.