Everything went still a moment before she managed to say anything, and with all that stillness, Idun realized she didn't really need to say anything. She'd figure out that first thing eventually. Or never. Idun took a moment to forget how to breathe. He looked very, very good when he was admitting to only having theories. Unreasonably good. In all the worlds, in all of time, there was never going to be another god who made the possession of theories look so good. He kept talking, and she kept listening, but Idun did not find herself with anything of value to contribute until the very last bit. She nodded. "That sounds reasonable," she said. Her voice was a little on the breathy side. That was not how she'd intended to sound. "And you did say there was safety in numbers. Perhaps, instead of a bear, we have a transitional rift. You did offer a certain amount of protection from such things, if I recall correctly."
Which, of course, she did. Idun recalled everything about this interaction correctly, from the casual way he'd greeted her to the pleasant weight of his hand on her back. The weight that left as he crossed this invisible line in the name of protecting her from some crazy, invisible force. She missed the weight immediately. She almost frowned. And then he mentioned favors and curiosity returned to her expression. Hadn't another one of his reasons been to do him a favor? Hasn't he--
Oh. Ohhh. Well, Idun had no trouble with this sort of favor. Not when her entire body seemed to sigh the moment he kissed her, not when she instantly forgot every kiss she'd ever had because they had all been nothing in comparison to this kiss. There was a feeling of relief as the seconds ticked by, like she'd arrived home after a long and grueling journey. She felt comforted, and comfortable, and when his lips left hers, Idun let out a shaky breath and kept her eyes closed.
Which was for the best, since he wasn't done. Her feet left the ground and this time, Idun pressed into the kiss a bit more, wanting to remember how he felt, how he tasted, how he reacted when she properly responded to his kiss. The reaction to the response was always important. Her hand moved out of the gray area and settled at the back of his neck, where a lover might brush her fingertips through his dark curls. Where Idun brushed her fingertips through his dark curls. The kiss did not last long, but it stretched for an eternity and gave Idun a brief glimmer of hope. Maybe she could trust him, Maybe there was someone out there for everyone, someone who could remove the terror from the idea of forever. Maybe Bragi was her someone.
And then she remembered what he'd said. One moment from now we will be friends.
Her feet touched the ground again, and Idun swallowed back a swell of undefined, irrational emotion. Devastation wasn't the right word. Idun had lost something she'd never rightly had, so how could she mourn? In the embrace of lovers, she hadn't been lost anymore. He'd found her. As the kiss stretched for an eternity, Idun saw what he might give her, the life they might carve out together. The teasing, the laughter, the chaotic number of green-eyed, curly-haired children. But hope like that was for fools. For a moment, she wasn't lost anymore.
And then the moment passed.
Idun looked at him and smiled. She smiled at her friends. She didn't have it in her to respond to everything he was saying, but at least she could smile. He was gone as soon as he finished talking anyway, so she never got a chance to find her voice. And if she had? Well, she felt a bit like yelling, to be honest, and that wasn't a particularly friendly thing to do. It was best that he'd disappeared as quickly as he had. Best for everyone.
A slow breath steadied her and made her realize how unsteady she apparently was. Idun looked at the road, the light remnants of an eloquent god's footprints, and she decided she didn't want to be lost anymore. She decided to head home. Being lost had suddenly lost all of its appeal, promising nothing but disappointment and sadness.