It was Idun's turn to count to three in her mind. She really didn't want to continue talking about Bragi's beautiful, captivating, perfect way of translating emotions into words. Words for another goddess. Idun was tired of talking about them. But she had to be a good friend. She had to maintain the appearance of friendly goodness. Because, in that moment, it felt that her paper-thin mask of friendship was all she had left to hold onto. It was irrational, and came on without warning, but talking in meaningless riddles was driving her crazy. She wanted to talk to him. Just not about Jondi. Idun loved their talks until he mentioned her. And he always mentioned her eventually. "I have faith in you," she said, because it was the only thing that was sincere and honest and not cloaked in horrifying mystery. She hated these riddles.
And this net. And every perfect thing he had to say about a perfect goddess that wasn't Idun.
True love was a powerful idea, the most romantic notion Idun dared to hold onto. She had abandoned the thought that she'd find it long ago, but she still hoped. Mostly for other people, because looking for a pure flake of snow on a dirty, trampled, muddy winter path was exhausting and painful and a bit crushing, but for someone stronger than Idun it was possible, and for that, Idun continued to hope. She wasn't brave, not with her heart, but others could be. Like Bragi. True love meant the overwhelming depth of emotion could be triggered by anything, anything at all. Talking about a friend's tragic demise could bring to mind an amusing conversation with your love, for example. It hurt, actually hurt to hear. Idun's brows twisted with panic, and she curled her fingers into her palm until her nails dug in deep enough to distract from the ache in her chest.
"Oh," she managed. Idun decided to ration her breathing like she was running out of air. Otherwise she was going to hyperventilate. It helped a little bit. It kept her from whimpering when he admitted that she was a key player in the success of his relationship. The thing that sealed them together. "That's very nice of you to say." She wanted to hate him for the kindness, but she couldn't. Idun hated that she couldn't hate him.
And she hated that he wouldn't just cut her down himself. His proposal wasn't helpful, or even all that realistic, and that made it even worse. Next he was going to say she could wait for the arrival of the bird he'd scared off during their first meeting, and upon its arrival, strike a deal that would band all the woodland creatures together in an effort to free her from her prison. "Sadly, I don't see anyone with a knife for me to steal, Bragi. I don't think that plan will work."