PHD #305: EVENT - More Than Just Ashes
More Than Just Ashes
Summary: The lady of the house left behind some strange tracings on Wreath of Roses, but no answers are found, only more questions.
Date: 28 Dec 2041 AE
Related Logs: The Last Pilgrims To Knossos; Mirror Mirror; obliquely Hatin' From The Oven
Cora Evandreus Klaxon Mathers Leyla Samuel Hydra 
Wreath of Roses, Tauron
Post-Holocaust Day: #303

<OOC> Hydra says, "So here's the situation"

<OOC> Hydra says, "During the search of one of the estates on Wreath of Roses, Leyla and a team discovered that someone - perhaps the Cylons - had perhaps swiped an artifact related to Zeus (old helmet) from a private museum collection. Likely long before the Cylons originally abandoned Tauron, since this was before their recent attack on the Cerberus. This wasn't followed up on until recently but, given the apparent interest the Cylons spotted on the surface have shown in human religious sites, it made Command want to take another look at the moon for possible new Cylon presence"

<OOC> Hydra says, "No signs of Cylons have been noted on Wreath of Roses. However, one of the estates here did catch CPT Nikephoros' interest. It belonged, according to Taurian land archives, to a woman by the name of Erendira Payo. An artist of some note, evocative, heavy on political and religious symbolism (think Frida Kahlo - except actually recognized in her lifetime). She used her money to amass an impressive private collection much like the museum Leyla & Co. turned over in the log 'Mirror Mirror' . She was also a major donor to and board member of the the Tauron Museum of Antiquities in Knossos, where a team recently ventured to general vague, inconclusive weirdness"'

<OOC> Hydra says, "With no sign of Cylon presence and their continued poking at religious-y things, Cora's decided she wants to check this out sooner rather than later and Command has authorized this jaunt"

Wreath of Roses was a small spot of paradise above the rugged earth of Tauron before the worlds fell. Palatial estates, home to some of the wealthiest citizens of the colonies, many of whom stored treasures the museums and galleries of Caprica herself would envy in their bedrooms. The home of Erendira Payo was such a place. A sprawling mansion that covers several acres of land, it was once surrounded by a growing hedge that ringed the interior gardens and lawns. A walkway of unnaturally-grown natural beauty as one traipsed up to her front door. Now the hedges are withered, the flowers dead, the fountains and fish ponds still and stagnant. The dead grass of the lawn does, however, provide a fine landing space for the Raptor as the Colonial team descends from space to moon. Flyovers reported no sign of Cylon activity here. Though with the party of Fives on the surface sneaking about, who can trust that? In any case, the place looks deserted enough from above. Maybe this little outing will stay quiet.

It sure seems secluded enough. And Evan's back here for the far too manyth time, settling down the Raptor in amongst the crispy yellow grasses, muscles twinging with a hesitation through every motion of his hands over the control panelling, the thick gloves of his flightsuit handily covering up the slight tremor in his fingers. His mouth's just a little bit open, air shuddering in and out between a shivering lower lip and upper teeth. At least he's just staying in the boat this time.

Mathers is one of the first to snap himself out of his harness as the Raptor settles, hitching a hand above him to steady his balance. "Blaine, you're on point. Rest of the crew in the middle to be covered by me bringing up the rear." As the new Marine XO aboard the Cerberus, he's not content to stay behind and push papers from a desk, rather inserting himself in to the thick of things because there's nothing like dangling your toes right above the fire. "Eyes sharp, Corporal."

It's always a strange thing, when you're a pilot, to be a passenger, rather than the pilot. To be in the back, instead of in the front. To look out and see nothing but metal deckplating and the bulkhead ahead of you, instead of the view of space and sky stretching out ahead of you. But like they say…if wishes were horses…And so, Leyla's settled in one of the rear compartment's seats, dressed, not in her usual flight suit, but in her modified ground battle blacks, lacking most all of the accoutrement marines would carry. In their place, her side arm, a camera and the pack of beef jerky poking out of the lefthand pocket. As soon as Evan sets down, she unsnaps herself from her harness, moving up to the pilot's seat, reaching out a gloves hand to lightly touch Bunny's shoulder, "We good, Bunny?"

"Will do, sir," Samuel replies with a bit of a nod as he moves to get out of the seat and out of the Raptor. Nodding a bit at the words from Mathers, he replies with one word to the part about the sharp eyes. "Always."

Evandreus starts, about as tightly wound as a spring, when Lala touches him on the shoulder, but, recovering, he swiftly, and maybe a hint too loudly, replies, "All green up here. Fore oxylights are coming on, no alarms," he goes on, talking through the steps Lala knows so well, lifting a hand up to unlock the hatch controls and pull the lever to, sending the hatch door sliding out and up. "Have fun out there," he chuckles. "Be -careful.-"

<FS3> Leyla rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Mathers rolls Alertness: Great Success.
<FS3> Evandreus rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Samuel rolls Alertness: Success.
<FS3> Cora rolls Alertness: Good Success.

This must have been a beautiful place once. The whole design of it, the climbing hedges, pebbled footpaths, fruit trees and flowers and koi ponds never meant to live in this environment. A sanctuary, a dream made real through money and *very* expensive irrigation. Those flowers are long dead now, some of their petals dried and fallen upon the yellow grass. Leaves of the trees likewise withered without a gardener to care for them. Dreams built on such ephemeral foundations wither quickly when left untended.

The walk through the decaying garden is not a long one, and there are no gates or locks beyond a walkway of steps up to the house's entrance. Three stories tall, not counting a little spiring 'turret' at the top of it that looks like nothing so much as a fairytale princess' tower. The house itself is in perfect condition. Or so it appears from the outside. Who knows what lies within?

"I'm always careful." If there's any indication that Leyla was NOT really commenting on the state of the raptor, she gives little to no indication of it. None, save for a squeeze of her hand, before she releases Bunny's shoulders, and her voice, soft and low, for the pilot and no one else, "I'm coming back, Bunny, we all are." And then she's gone, both the woman, and the ghost who goes with her, in his own way. Off through the remnants of this once vibrant estate. "I do have to wonder if any of this could be salvaged for use aboard the Elpis." But any thoughts of that sort of scavenging will have to wait, once she comes up closer to the entry to the house proper, "I have a feeling we might not be alone in there."

Mathers walks lightly, weight primarily on the toes of his well polished boots as he treads on the ground behind the lot of them. His rifle is poised and ready, one eye looking down the scope as he sweeps the negative space for any sign of disturbance or hazzard. Perhaps it's the magnification that helps him see something rather odd up ahead. "Corporal it looks like the domicile is lacking a front door. Be wary of an easy welcome," gets called ahead.

Samuel looks around a bit carefully now, pausing for a few moments as he hears Mathers. "Got it," he offers quietly as he begins making his way towards the building, trying to keep out of the general line of sight from the door, or lack of such.

"Hm," is Evan's brief sound of agreement to Lala's assertion that they'd be back, as though he had no particular doubt of it. He makes himself busy running through the systems checks, but it's more for show than because he actually needs to, at this point. It's a habit of his, running through the systems checks over and over again while he's in the boat, waiting for the others to come back. But today his mind won't settle on the task at hand, for one reason or another, and his hands go through the motions without his mind being particularly engaged in the act.

The doubled-doored entrance does, indeed, sit entirely open to them. The double doors that were once - one would think - there are long gone. Removed not be force. There's no sign of damage to the hinges, though the screws in them *have* been taken out, if one bothers to look. The doors are just gone. Beyond them is a entryroom that is likely a Marine's nightmare in terms of attempts at stealth. Large, open round foyer with no real cover. Marble floors one can't hope to walk on without making some noise in military-issue boots. Big windows in multiple places on the wall, designed to give one a prime view of the garden outside. The place is absolutely quiet, save for the sounds made by the away team themselves. There is no furniture here. This is but a gateway into the mansion proper. A door at the far end leads further into the first floor. A spiral staircase, running directly up the center of the room, provides access to the upper levels.

Cora sticks to the middle of the pack, allowing the Marines to lead and bring up the rear. She starts to lift a hand, perhaps to alert the group to the open front door, but Mathers beats her to it and her hand returns to lingering above her sidearm. Though technically in charge, she seems content to let the Marines do their job without assistance or comment, just yet.

Whatever Leyla might want to do…or even say, is set to the side as she continues along with the group. Her hand, however does move to her sidearm, unsnapping the catch, before they settle. Alert, attentive, but not fearful. What would be the point of that? "Was anyone able to get blueprints of the mansion?" Might be good to know, if they have to split up into teams and all.

Mathers pages Hydra and Cora: Three floors, 3500 square feet sound about right? Say 20 rooms?

Mathers pages Hydra and Cora: And say four exits?

"Let's try to stick to the perimeter of the rooms, people. Captain Nikephoros," Damn, she needs a shorter name. That's hard to yell out in the heat of battle, "We should sweep the first floor before moving upstairs." As the group edges into the marble foyer, Mathers follows his own advice and starts to hug close to the walls. "We have three floors to cover. Thirty-five hundred square feet and twenty rooms. Four exterior exits not including windows." That seems to be the long answer to Leyla's question.

Samuel moves along one of the walls as well, nodding a bit as Mathers speaks. Starting to head for the door at the far end, while looking up at the staircase once in a while, just in case.

The manse itself is not as huge as some of the others that dot the landscape of Wreath of Roses. Erendira Payo, its owner and occupant, lived alone apart from her servants. Even comparatively 'small' as it is, it is likely hard to imagine one person having all this to themselves. It seems even larger, quiet and dusty as it is. Empty. Apart from the thick layer of dust, the place is in perhaps surprisingly good condition. There's no trace of looting here. The owner was an artist, and paintings and tapestries cover most free bits of wall. Mostly *not* by Payo herself, though one of her famed self-portraits does hang in the foyer, near the staircase. She was not a particularly attractive woman, rather dumpy with a large nose and unibrow, but she painted herself as such. This one in particular is highly stylized, her face bluish green, the snakes of Medusa twining out of her head. It's that piece that 'welcomes' them up to the path up the stairs. Its landscapes and outdoor scenes that dominate the rest of the foyer. The woman liked her flowers.

Moving into position. At least the gang's all still here. But the gang is small, moreso, when placed against a backdrop as large as this one. Onward and upward, the small pilot placed, for good or ill, just behind Samuel, though, thankfully, she's making no attempt to crowd him. "I'm not seeing any residual tracks from anyone who might have come up before us." Unless Cylons have learned to levitate.

Cora looks up at the portrait as they near the stairs, and then at the stairs themselves. "A spiral staircase, lovely," she remarks, glancing back at the marine XO, "Every marine's favorite approach, I'm sure." She considers for a moment, and then suggests, "I'm not sure how much time we'll have here, and I'd love to cover as much ground as possible. Captain, you and Blaine come with Aydin and me upstairs, the others can sweep the first floor. Coms on TAC1, radio immediately if you spot any sign of Cylon presence, or anything of interest." She gives the marine captain a moment to object, and then steps aside and gestures up the stairs with a hand while she unhooks her sidearm, "After one of you."

Mathers lowers his scope from his eye long enough to straighten for a moment and look up to that looming portrait. "I bet she had a great personality," he says rather deadpanned. "Corporal, you heard the Captain. Up and away." The barrel of his rifle makes a little gesture of 'up' and a little head hitch to the other team that is to remain downstairs.

Samuel nods a little bit as he hears that, moving to take the lead up the staircase. Attention in front of him, and upwards as he moves along the spiral.

Funny thing, which one will certainly note as they head up the stairs onto the upper floors. And the rest of the fire team sweeping the first will report. *All* the doors into the various rooms in the house have been removed. Much like the entry, no sign of force, just oh-so-carefully taken off their hinges. Each one, systematically, and for no evident reason unless the lady of the house had something very much against doors. There remains no *real* sign of looting though, as the team on the first floor swept the kitchen, they report its shelves and pantry were picked bare. And yet again with no sign of force, and no mess left behind. By all reports the place remains deserted. And relatively dull as far as the ground floor is concerned. No real surprise. From the schematics of the place, Payo's studio and library were on the second floor, her bedroom and personal, private collection of art on the third. Any 'museum' pieces would likely be there. Still no sign anybody is home. Just more lovely things, covered in dust.

<FS3> Mathers rolls Alertness: Great Success.
<FS3> Samuel rolls Alertness: Bad Failure.
<FS3> Cora rolls Alertness: Great Success.
<FS3> Leyla rolls Alertness: Good Success.

As they move onto the second floor, Mathers leads with his rifle into the open doorway, doing visual sweeps to make sure there will be no surprises. "I've heard of open concept before, but this is ridiculous." He mutters as he eyes yet another naked doorjam. The man suddenly draws up sharp, head canted as he hears something. His hand quickly snaps up, telling the procession to hold without using as many words. "I hear a bird. Anyone have auditory confirmation?"

Cora's head snaps up at nearly the same moment, and she's nodding before Mathers has even finished the question. "Yes. Down the hallway to the right, it seems like," she adds, pointing at the second empty doorway after another brief pause, head tilted to pinpoint the sound. She looks around from the top of the stairs, and then heads towards the noise, sidearm half-drawn, though she still allows the marines to take point if they like.

"Like a miner bird." Those would be the birds they used to take into mines to warn of the dangerous levels of gases in the atmosphere. Second floor is the best Leyla's got though. She'll leave it to the others who seem to know better the direction from which the sound is coming.

Samuel pauses a bit as he hears that, stopping and looking around for a few moments. "Can't hear anything…" he mutters, glancing towards the others.

If Cora is going avian hunting with her sidearm, she can put it to use. There is nothing else to shoot beyond that particular non-doorway. It leads into the artist's studio, which is itself not a particularly impressive room. At first glance. The floors are hardwood here rather than marble, one wall entirely taken up by windows, to allowing a flood of natural light. A couch is the only piece of furniture here. Apart from a huge drafting desk likely meant for bigger projects. A sketchbook still sits on it, charcoal pencil set almost neatly to one side. A cage hangs over the desk though its little golden door, like all the others in the house, has been removed. A miner bird indeed. A little yellow canary sits on its perch in the cage, singing. Quite enthusiastically, perhaps inspired by the presence of the Colonials in the house. Perhaps its been living on the decaying plants in the garden, and the stagnant water, because the little thing seems to be in good shape.

Cora steps into the room carefully, looking around the space carefully, just in case there's somebody hiding, before moving further in. Her sidearm is returned to its holster and she heads towards the drafting desk, eyeing the canary in its open cage curiously. A finger is drummed against the edge of the desk as she looks at it thoughtfully, and then away, down to the artist's sketchbook and the other papers on the desk, looking them over with a quick eye, just in case.

"The caged bird sings." Soft words, as Leyla follows the team lead into the artist's studio, her own attention for the studio itself. Art, at least, is something she's familiar with, and her eyes turn to the artwork left around, looking through it for clues, "Are we cleared to look at what's been left behind? There might be clues in what wasn't taken." But she's already on her way, to give everything a good looking over.

Samuel studies the bird for a few moments, before he pauses to look around at the room, a bit carefully. He's keeping quiet for now.

Once the room is clear (save Tweety), Mathers enters it slowly while keeping one eye on the doorway as he steps into the thick of the room. "Corporal, hold the door." In the manner of holding the line, of course, as there is actually no door hat he has to physically keep ajar. The marine Captain takes a quick inventory of the room, but of all things it's the sketchbook he hones in on. His bootfalls are crisp on the floor as he closes the distance to the drafting desk and he looms above the book a moment before his big hand closes around the spine in quick decision. "We'll take this with. Captain do you see anything else of interest?"

The sketchbook is open on its first page to a charcoal drawing of a hand, fingertips upraised, a rendering of a canary just like the one singing in the cage above perched upon her fingers. And it's definitely a 'her.' The hand of the model, whoever it was, clearly belonged to a woman. Though its quite full of drawings beyond that first page. The thing was well-used, that charcoal on the desk worn down to the nub.

Cora reaches out to take the sketchbook at the same moment that Mathers does, nodding, "Yes, we'll take this. And no, this is it that I see. I'll keep this, thank you, captain." She flashes him a smile and takes up the book before turning to head out of the room, eyeing the other options on the hallway. "Here next," she suggests, gesturing to one of the rooms down the hall and beginning to head that way, "It looks on the blueprints like it might be a library." As she walks, she flips through the sketchbook quickly, glancing down from the door ahead to its pages as they go.

Samuel nods a bit as he hears that, waiting by the doorway and stepping out with the others. Looking between the various rooms for a few moments, before heading for the same room as Cora, glancing around carefully.

"Seems as if we should consider taking the bird with us when we go." It's alive, and rightfully probably shouldn't be alive, but is. Still, Leyla finds nothing else of interest, as she moves to rejoin the group, "I've never met an artist who had nothing in their studio. At all. Every artist has projects finished and unfinished lying around, ideas, things half done. Everything in that room is blank or not there at all."

Mathers seems about to protest, in fact his mouth hangs open to do so but he seems to lack a logical explination as to why he should be tasked with handling the book. He even looks as if he's confused himself for a moment, but he shakes free of the thought and puts both hands back on his rifle where they should be. "As you wish." Whether that's to the book or her suggestion of where to go next, but his following words come at a bark of authority. "Moving on."

The canary bobs on his perch, continuing to sing. Tune upticking at Leyla's words. He's preening. Maybe in an attempt to 'sell' himself. His little black eyes fix on Samuel, peek bobbing up and down. Not that he flies over to peck at the Marine, however. He just keeps singing.

Cora glances over her shoulder to Leyla and nods, "You can pick it up on our way out; I'd rather keep more hands free until then. We—" she stops suddenly, and opens the book more fully, revealing, for anyone near enough to take a look, a picture of a pretty young brunette, crying. Anyone who might recognize a Cylon Model 11 would certainly recognize the artist's subject here. She begins moving towards the library once again, but Samuel is allowed to lead so Cora can look more carefully through the next pages of the sketchbook.

Samuel blinks a bit as he hears Cora's reaction. Turning towards her, he pauses as he sees the picture in the book. "That's…" He trails off, and turns back to look where he's going, hurrying to be the first person into the library.

"Thank you, Captain." Hooray for picking up pets on away missions! Leyla settles in, following, once again, behind Samuel, allowing Cora the time she needs or wants to look through the book, her own eyes taking in the library. The state of it as well as the titles, what she can see of them.

Mathers is just behind Cora's shoulder, nearly bumping into the woman as she stops so suddenly. He drops his face down near her ear, breath warm but voice cold. "Better save that for later, Captain. The less we linger the better. Get in, get out."

If the studio was strangely bare, the library is entirely the opposite. This is the first room in the house that looks as if it were roughly lived-in. Its an expansive collection of books on the hardwood shelves, built into the walls and standing in tall stacks. But many of those shelves have been emptied, the books on them scattered on tables, couches, open as if one were trying to read all of them at once. Skipping from them a paragraph at a time. There's a blanket and pillows on one of the couches. Untidy, like they might become if one were sleeping on them regularly, though the place itself is as deserted as the rest of the house. The books are a mix of Taurian and Standard, on every subject, though most that're littering the tables and sofas are devoted to art history. As could be expected in this house, the collection on the subject is expansive. Though an interest has also been taken in the lady of the house's more religious collection. A full copy of the Sacred Scrolls is open on one table, a notebook and pencil beside it. No sketches there, though there is writing visible.

Cora shifts a glance back at Mathers as he leans in, head turned very slightly towards the captain. There is a moment that hangs after his suggestion, wherein it seems that she might disagree… but she doesn't, snapping the sketchbook shut and heading into the library without another word. She doesn't pause inside the door, pacing into the room and around, peering at the titles of books, at the shelves they've been pulled off, and then at the table with the notebook on it. It's there that she heads first, to check out the notes written on it. "See if you see any other sorts of notes anywhere," she suggests, "Any theme through the books laid about other than art history, anything that matches up with things we've noted elsewhere…" she gestures in a sort of 'etcetera' way with one hand, a looping flick of her wrist.

"I'll let Bunny know we need the storage crates to start bringing in these books. And that copy of the Scrolls." Clearly, if it was being read that makes it important. "We can always see about getting the Providers in here to collect what's left behind after we clear that out." That said, Leyla begins a circuit of the room, doing as the Captain ordered, passing her at the table only on the tail end of her trek around the room. And then she does pause, blatantly reading, well, she's too short to read over Cora's shoulder, so sort of around it. "Coordinate markers." A nod of her head to the open notebook pages and the numbers written down there. "Any map cases in here with the books?"

Samuel listens quietly now as he looks around for a few moments rather carefully. Moving over to one of the shelves to look through it a bit thoughtfully.

Mathers is a little more thin-lipped then they were when this entire mission began, but then again he's a marine, likely he's just wound a little tight as their stay stretches. His gaze flicks between the exit to the room and that which Cora suggested he be on the look out for. He pauses at a side table, fingering aside books and loose pages looking for any sort of handwritten notes.

[Into the Wireless] Leyla says, "Bunny, can you prep the storage crates we brought down? We've got some books we'll need brought back, and if you can, get on the horn and ask Pony if he's got a raptor or two free he can send down once we're back to pick up the rest?""

Cora nods to Leyla, touching the numbers on the page, and then pointing behind her, towards a shelf on one wall, "Maps over there, I think." She flips to the next page, reads, and then flips through the other pages before shutting the notebook and setting the sketchbook down atop it. A camera is removed from a pocket, and pictures of the scene in the room are taken. "Let's take the maps and the books that are off the shelves first, the rest separately. If any books are open to a particular page, I'd like that recorded and marked." The notebook she takes up, looking around the room before peeking into the sketchbook again as she waits for those crates. She stops on one page, and looks up, and then back, and then up again. "Corporal Blaine," she calls to Samuel, "The woman who lives in this house, in the portraits on the walls — you haven't ever seen her before, have you?"

Leyla is more than happy to leave Cora with the notebook for the time being. Rather than try to puzzle things out here and now, she pulls out her own camera, and the tiny notepad she always carries in a pocket. Starting at the top left corner of the room, she begins to catalog each open book, taking an image of the page it was open to, before she uses a piece of paper from her notepad to mark the page, then, after shutting it, an image of the front and spine of the book. And the back, if that has pertinent information. As each book is cataloged, she moves it to a central free space for packing, once storage arrives.

[Into the Wireless] There's a moment of quiet, then, over the comms, "Um. Yah," precedes the normal, "Sweet Pea, this is Bunny. Stiff and I will get the crates unloaded. Found some good mags for the head?" he asks, jocularity sounding just a little shakier than normal. Just a little forced. Tense.

[Into the Wireless] Leyla says, "Depends on how racy you find works of art. Bunny, you fancy a friend for Commander Nibbles?"

Samuel blinks a bit at that question, "I don't think so…" he begins, before pausing for a few moments. "Not entirely sure… How so?" he asks, after a few more moments of thought.

Mathers ponders this book or that that's laying about, but as people start to catalog and take greater care with the books, he too seems to halt at a particular volume. He swings his rifle around to rest on his back before taking it up, thumb thrust into the pages to mark the place it was open to before he flips pages and scans. A slip of paper is pulled out its tuck and then it's folded and palmed. "Here's one. Highlighted." He calls attention to the book, moving to set it down by Leyla so she can snap pictures of it. He seems to have forgotten about the paper he's grasping, however.

[Into the Wireless] "A friend for… what?" Evan replies, confusion swarming his voice, almost overtaking it on its way over the airwaves, the reply coming off feeble and weakly voiced.

Leyla lifts her head as she's signaled for. Upon arrival, she does go about marking and snapping pictures of the pages Mathers indicates, a tilt of her head following, "Was there some sort of marker holding the place in this book? I'm not seeing any dogears."

[Into the Wireless] Leyla says, "We found a pretty little canary, Captain says I can bring him home."

Cora lifts a brow at Samuel, watching the marine for a long moment or two. "Well, she knew you," the captain says finally, holding up the sketchbook so that the marine (and everyone else in the room) can see: a page taken up by a drawing of the corporal himself, a close portrait of his face, dirt-smudged, helmet on. "Don't panic," she adds a moment later, though whether she's speaking to Samuel or the others isn't clear, "He's not the only one in here. Come take a look, corporal, see if you can think of a connection between you and the others she drew."

Mathers looks down to his hand at the question from Leyla, a finger running along the edge of the note. Instead of offering it to Leyla, he extends his hand in the vague direction of Cora. "Classified. Unless the Captain deems otherwise." At the mention that Samuel is in the sketchbook, the marine XO quickly closes the gab between him and the TACCO.

[Into the Wireless] "… Oh," comes the answer from Evan, as if he weren't quite sure what to do with that information. "Okay," he finally decides is a proper reply.

Samuel blinks a bit as he sees that drawing. "What… How…" He trails off, shaking his head as he makes his way over to look at those drawings, expression perhaps a bit more confused than usual, now.

"Frakkin' Marine." Yes, Leyla does actually mumble that to herself after Mathers wanders off. "Captain. Do I or do I not have your permission to photograph everything that might be considered relevant within this library?" She might as well get the asking out of the way now, while she's at it.

Mathers pages Cora and Hydra: It reads: || "The same dream. Three nights in not as many weeks. // Our brother HAD to have heard. He has to bring help. // Even then, I do not think God will forgive us for our crimes. Do we deserve it? // Home. Not this Hell we have made. But a home."

Cora hands the sketchbook off to Samuel as the marine comes over to see it, watching his reaction as he does. Then she turns back to eye the paper Mathers is holding out, stepping closer to read it out of the marine's hand. She says nothing immediately, looking up at Leyla's question and replying, "Yes, please do, Lieutenant. Leave the notebook and the sketchbook for the moment, however, catalog the books about the room first." She turns back to eye the slip of paper again, and then reads, though it has a tone near recitation, almost like poetry: "The same dream. Three nights in not as many weeks. // Our brother HAD to have heard. He has to bring help. // Even then, I do not think God will forgive us for our crimes. Do we deserve it? // Home. Not this Hell we have made. But a home." She is silent for a moment after that, considering, and then lifts a brow at Mathers and inquires, "Human or Cylon, do you think? I don't think I like not being able to tell."

Samuel takes the offered sketchbook, looking at those pictures, and lets out a bit of a breath. "Leonis…" he finally says. "About that time we encountered that Cylon in the library there. It looks like…" He trails off as he looks through the pictures once more, taking a few deep breaths. "It looks like it's from that Cylon's point of view…"

"God is singular." Is the only thing Mathers points out, but that's the only indication he thinks one way or the other about the message written on the paper. If the marine has any other opinion on the matter, he's keeping it to himself. He's turning once more to find anything else of relevance so he can speed this little fact finding mission up. "Do you recognize any other of the sketches in the book?" He reaches out to tug experimentally on the chain hanging from a lamp to see if the light comes on.

"Yes, sir." That done, Leyla moves back to Cora, waiting a moment, to add the picture of the slip of paper to her list of images. Anal retentive as she is, she wants everything in precisely the order it was found, so that they can be viewed in the proper order. She touches, as ordered, neither the sketchbook, nor the notepad, and makes no comment about the recitation. No, rather, she simply returns to the work of making a visual record of everything.

"Good catch," Cora notes to Mathers with a nod, and adds to Leyla, "Keep an eye out for anything that might relate to a monotheist cult, as well. We've seen something of those around here already." As for the sketches, she nods. "A number of other members of the crew, and Rutger Tower in Kythera, a few other sketches of Leonis. Ah. Thank you, corporal," She offers to Samuel with a nod. She then turns back to perusing the room carefully, just in case there's anything else of interest before they move on and finish packing.

'Of interest' is a relative term. The books and maps here have obviously been poured over, more little notations made in some of the margins, but it'll be an academic chore to wade through. It can all be loaded up and taken back to the battlestar, however. The house itself truly is deserted, as the rest of the fireteam reports from their sweeps of the other areas. The upper floor is more mussed, bed slept in, some of the clothing apparently worn, but whoever was occupying this place is long gone. They've just left behind their drawings, their notes, and their bird.

Not so relative when anything could be everything. And so, the cataloging continues. As does the packing and storing, once the crates are brought up from the raptor. It seems none of their journeys have ended in revelation. Every step onto Wreath of Roses leaves them with more questions. More clues, with seemingly no hope of finding the X that marks the spot. But still, the small survey team from Cerberus does what they came to do, and everything the Captain deems necessary is shipped back immediately. The rest, will be collected by the Providers. At the end of all things, nothing can be allowed to go to waste. Not even a canary.

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