Loki has, figuratively speaking, died a thousand deaths while waiting for this information. He's experienced torture both physically and psychologically, at the hands of other individuals, but really the most sadistic torments come at his own hands. His world. Thor's world. And how many parallel universes might Thanos have wreaked his destruction in?
Infinite, is the answer. Not all universes, but infinite ones. And if he can somehow patch up the damage in two, that's less than an atom in a cosmos of destruction. Loki fully expects all Universes to return to Ginnungagap in time. That's natural, light to darkness, and someday light again. What's not natural is the abrupt shove in the direction of entropy that Thanos gave creation, thinking he knew how to improve upon it.
Loki hates feeling helpless in the face of an Abyss. He's not thrilled about relying on human ingenuity, either--but admittedly, if he were going to choose the least objectionable species to come up with a way to save creation, he'd probably settle on either humans or dolphins, and he's not sure the latter are up to the task.
When he arrives in Ian's office, he has the courtesy to PINpoint to just outside the door and knock, rather than popping right in. To an ignorant observer, he might look like he's trying to out-Malcolm Malcolm, given the sleek all-black suit he's in. The only spot of color is a tiny enamel lapel pin in the colors of the genderfluid pride flag.
He looks wrung out, eyes shadowed, but he gives the man a small, tense smile. "If this project proves successful, perhaps you can venture some mathematical theories as to why, despite the existence of linear time, every goddamn thing seems to happen at once? Here, I've brought you something."
He offers little green foil gift bag tied with a black ribbon. Inside is a jar of Alfheim honey--the best in the multiverse, Loki will swear to it--and a few assorted little toys, hand-colored pictures, and painted rocks sent by the Asgardian children and probably intended more for Kelly, Lex, and Tim, than Ian himself.
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Date: 2019-08-31 03:26 pm (UTC)Infinite, is the answer. Not all universes, but infinite ones. And if he can somehow patch up the damage in two, that's less than an atom in a cosmos of destruction. Loki fully expects all Universes to return to Ginnungagap in time. That's natural, light to darkness, and someday light again. What's not natural is the abrupt shove in the direction of entropy that Thanos gave creation, thinking he knew how to improve upon it.
Loki hates feeling helpless in the face of an Abyss. He's not thrilled about relying on human ingenuity, either--but admittedly, if he were going to choose the least objectionable species to come up with a way to save creation, he'd probably settle on either humans or dolphins, and he's not sure the latter are up to the task.
When he arrives in Ian's office, he has the courtesy to PINpoint to just outside the door and knock, rather than popping right in. To an ignorant observer, he might look like he's trying to out-Malcolm Malcolm, given the sleek all-black suit he's in. The only spot of color is a tiny enamel lapel pin in the colors of the genderfluid pride flag.
He looks wrung out, eyes shadowed, but he gives the man a small, tense smile. "If this project proves successful, perhaps you can venture some mathematical theories as to why, despite the existence of linear time, every goddamn thing seems to happen at once? Here, I've brought you something."
He offers little green foil gift bag tied with a black ribbon. Inside is a jar of Alfheim honey--the best in the multiverse, Loki will swear to it--and a few assorted little toys, hand-colored pictures, and painted rocks sent by the Asgardian children and probably intended more for Kelly, Lex, and Tim, than Ian himself.