This is a frustrating thing to say and to hear, for someone who has made it his singular life’s goal to know everything, actually —
but if there’s one thing Strange has had drummed into him over and over by now, is the fact that he truly does know nothing and the universe contains endless unfathomable mysteries, new horizons, new planes of existence, uncountable multiverses. One feels miniscule in the shadow of it all. So Mobius’ comments hammer on familiar territory, like another persistent little echo of the Ancient One. (“Why are you doing this to me?” “To show you just how much you don’t know—”)
“Mobius, you are on the verge of sounding irritatingly wise,” Strange says, but it has the jovial sound of… almost a compliment? Sort of a compliment.
“Most likely I’ll keep studying for the rest of my life, yes. And y'know, I’ll stay tuned for anything I can learn about ancient elven artifacts; that seems very much up Project Felandaris’ alley.”
It’s probably impossible — he can no more easily give Gwenaëlle back her eye as give Mobius back his hands — but. He’s a fixer. He wants to fix things. Carve them up and reassemble them better. So he can’t help that nagging urge to at least think about it.
He delves back into the rest of his dinner, and they pass the remainder of the meal in surprisingly amiable conversation; although Strange’s gaze still, occasionally, drops to those hands.
possible wrap or yrs to wrap!
but if there’s one thing Strange has had drummed into him over and over by now, is the fact that he truly does know nothing and the universe contains endless unfathomable mysteries, new horizons, new planes of existence, uncountable multiverses. One feels miniscule in the shadow of it all. So Mobius’ comments hammer on familiar territory, like another persistent little echo of the Ancient One. (“Why are you doing this to me?” “To show you just how much you don’t know—”)
“Mobius, you are on the verge of sounding irritatingly wise,” Strange says, but it has the jovial sound of… almost a compliment? Sort of a compliment.
“Most likely I’ll keep studying for the rest of my life, yes. And y'know, I’ll stay tuned for anything I can learn about ancient elven artifacts; that seems very much up Project Felandaris’ alley.”
It’s probably impossible — he can no more easily give Gwenaëlle back her eye as give Mobius back his hands — but. He’s a fixer. He wants to fix things. Carve them up and reassemble them better. So he can’t help that nagging urge to at least think about it.
He delves back into the rest of his dinner, and they pass the remainder of the meal in surprisingly amiable conversation; although Strange’s gaze still, occasionally, drops to those hands.