Idun was a little surprised Bragi didn't leap headfirst into a character of his own making when she took the knife from him. She suspected his head was swimming with characters, even if he didn't have time to write plays yet. This character would probably go one of two ways: he could be a desperate hunter trying to provide for his family, only to have his trusty knife stolen by a nefarious tree goddess determined to see his children starve, or he would be a nervous man trying to check his reflection in the knife blade. He wouldn't even realize there was a goddess in a net overhead, he'd be too busy trying to see himself to confirm that he looked presentable for the girl he was meeting down the road. But when the knife disappeared, he'd be forced to look up, and love would spiral out of control and change the path of both their lives forever. Bragi didn't pick a character, though. He didn't even shout. That was curious.
Just not curious enough to draw Idun's gaze from her task. She couldn't look at him. Idun could feel the sun, the way it was breaking through the trees, and unless he'd moved, it would still be shining perfectly to make his hair look like the exact thing she was meant to run her fingers through forever. When he answered, Idun remained strong. 'Sometimes' didn't even leave a dent in her resolve. But the way he continued, the tone he used, that was familiar. She knew he was smirking. Idun knew what it sounded like when he smirked, and the knife almost slipped as she sucked in a breath and held it. Looking at him was a bad idea. He was smirking. He made smirking an art form, he could convince her to join him on the most devilish adventures if he only used a smirk. Idun wasn't going to l-- she looked. The dam broke and her breath escaped in a hard rush. She shouldn't have looked.
She shouldn't have listened, either. Not if what he had to tell her was wonderfully sweet. That knife hadn't been on his person. He needed to track it down and retrieve it, and he did, just for her. Idun swallowed thickly, returning all her focus to the ropes. A few more cuts and a hole was created. She studied it curiously, then cautioned a glance back at Bragi. He wasn't smirking anymore. Far worse. He looked concerned. Genuinely concerned. "You'll catch me," Idun said. She didn't need to repeat him, but it made her feel slightly more stable. She wished she'd phrased it as a question, something that needed confirmation. But it was too late for that.
Idun didn't want to be holding the knife as she left the net, so she carefully tossed the blade out through the hole and away from Bragi so it landed harmlessly in the dirt. Then she studied the drop. Idun had tumbled out of trees before, with minimal damage done, but she'd been by herself then. Nobody had ever been there to catch her.
She decided she needed to stop making it sound more significant than it actually was. "Okay," she said, clearing her throat. "Sliding out now." That was the best warning she could give him. It wasn't easy to maneuver her way out of the net, but she managed, and then she was falling, and no matter what she told herself, it was significant to actually have someone willing to catch her. Idun internally said to brace herself for impact with the ground, but it was like instinct knew better.
She had faith in Bragi, after all. Even if her mind didn't, her heart did.