By the time Prometheus finds Loki -- the real one -- he has acquired a small flock of children tagging along behind him like a mother hen with her chicks. Maybe it is the aura of calmness that he radiates, or maybe his beard reminds them of Odin a little, but he has taken the time to comfort each one, and so they follow him obediently back to the center of the Plaza.
The sight of Loki tending to the children is a wholesome one, and Prometheus would say so if the reason for it wasn't so tragic. "Of course," he says quickly, not too far off from the tone he used when speaking to the woman on the couch. "I'll do what I can."
Which begs the question, what can he do to help, exactly? He considers taking on his true size and herding up the straying children that way, but almost immediately dismisses the idea. The last thing these people need is a giant, even if he isn't blue. His gaze falls on a convenient Nexus couch, and a second, better idea takes hold. One that he puts into action by weaving to the edge of the crowd, calling out to any Asgardian he comes across.
"Hello! I think we should try to make everyone more comfortable. See those pillows over there? Grab as many as you can. Cushions, too! We can make ourselves a nice place to sit and wait with everyone, okay?"
He begins pushing the couches, chairs -- anything one can sit on, really -- into a wide circle, like a corral. The adults and older children catch on quickly and take over so he can work on retrieving the small ones who are too scared or shy to take part. He gently herds them to the center where the ground is already littered with piles of padding so that everyone may find a seat.
If the Powers That Be don't like him rearranging all the furniture, well, too bad. He keeps at it, his demeanor cheerful, as if this sort of thing happens in the Nexus all the time, all the while keeping an eye out for Magna. The child to adult ratio disturbs him, and not simply because of short-term logistics. Where are the rest of the parents?
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The sight of Loki tending to the children is a wholesome one, and Prometheus would say so if the reason for it wasn't so tragic. "Of course," he says quickly, not too far off from the tone he used when speaking to the woman on the couch. "I'll do what I can."
Which begs the question, what can he do to help, exactly? He considers taking on his true size and herding up the straying children that way, but almost immediately dismisses the idea. The last thing these people need is a giant, even if he isn't blue. His gaze falls on a convenient Nexus couch, and a second, better idea takes hold. One that he puts into action by weaving to the edge of the crowd, calling out to any Asgardian he comes across.
"Hello! I think we should try to make everyone more comfortable. See those pillows over there? Grab as many as you can. Cushions, too! We can make ourselves a nice place to sit and wait with everyone, okay?"
He begins pushing the couches, chairs -- anything one can sit on, really -- into a wide circle, like a corral. The adults and older children catch on quickly and take over so he can work on retrieving the small ones who are too scared or shy to take part. He gently herds them to the center where the ground is already littered with piles of padding so that everyone may find a seat.
If the Powers That Be don't like him rearranging all the furniture, well, too bad. He keeps at it, his demeanor cheerful, as if this sort of thing happens in the Nexus all the time, all the while keeping an eye out for Magna. The child to adult ratio disturbs him, and not simply because of short-term logistics. Where are the rest of the parents?