Something about the way that Heimdall explains himself makes her soften a bit, if only a little bit. She can’t hold too much against him - even this separation, she can’t truly hold against him. Especially if he will always be seeking her. It seems like Ati now has a reason to explore Terra a little more regularly. If only in the hope of seeing him again.
“..Hm. I do find a little comfort in that. I really do.“ For as sharp as her voice had been before, there is a softness, a melancholic willingness to understand. It had been inevitable before - but.. it’s different. It’s different when one is aware that they’ll always be seeking each other out more than likely.
The talk of time not passing the same, it rings true. It rings true in a way that has to give her some kind of bittersweet hope. If only in the way that she has been aware that she has been around so long, it shouldn’t be too long before she finds him again. It still hurts though. It still leaves a pang in her dark core.
“…I do believe you. I believe you all too much.“
She manages the slightest little smile. It doesn’t last much before she’s kissed, hard. So hard in the way that she needed. She wraps her hands around him, kissing him as deeply as possible. Ati feels the need to melt into him for a little bit longer, for as much as she can.
He knows he cannot reassure her entirely; the grief would have its day, as it demanded, and the wound would take its time to heal. It would be the same with him, as he adjusted to his new life, and a new kind of loneliness. But he believed in them, in their union, with the same bright-hearted fervour as mortals believed in their gods and saviours -- with more fervour, perhaps, since he knew the limitless potential for possibility in these boundless cosmos.
And, best of all, he knew himself. He had never been one to take anything lightly or frivolously, sometimes to his detriment. Their time together had changed him, fundamentally, and he intended to embrace that change as fiercely as he now embraced the catalyst of it.
And... she believed him. She chose to trust him, even in this. Of course, he’d never given her cause to think him deceitful or full of shit, but... still, the relief is palpable.
The warmth he’d felt quickly deepens into heat as she kisses him back, and he knows without a doubt that if there’s one last thing he wants to take from his time in Himinbjörg, it’s the feeling of her body tight against his, the feeling of wanting to be as close as possible, striving for the singular transcendent moment when they would be as one. One of his hands slips into her hair, cradling her head as they kiss, and the other traces a hungry course down the side of her body, curving around her thigh and squeezing.













