When Rogue's hitchhikers had tired of the first book, she'd replaced it and discovered the additional hidden shelves, including the books with that particular recurring illustration. It had to be Atlantis, the city that sank beneath the waves as Todd had described. The city that held the humans who might be able to help her get home, or might be able to offer her a home if she were stuck in this dimension for good.
Three of the books were spread across the desk, one of them in particularly poor shape, but all of them containing versions of that illustration as well as others. Each image gave her new clues to this strange galaxy and the city that was their next destination, but it also offered up new questions. She wished desperately that she could read at least one of the writing systems, whether it be the blocky text, the thin script, or the characters that looked vaguely similar to Earth's Arabic. None of it was even close to English or French though, or any of the languages that Erik had learned in his long life, so all she could do was turn the pages and wade deeper into the images etched into the paper. It was all a little frustrating, truth be told, but it wasn't like she had many other options.
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Three of the books were spread across the desk, one of them in particularly poor shape, but all of them containing versions of that illustration as well as others. Each image gave her new clues to this strange galaxy and the city that was their next destination, but it also offered up new questions. She wished desperately that she could read at least one of the writing systems, whether it be the blocky text, the thin script, or the characters that looked vaguely similar to Earth's Arabic. None of it was even close to English or French though, or any of the languages that Erik had learned in his long life, so all she could do was turn the pages and wade deeper into the images etched into the paper. It was all a little frustrating, truth be told, but it wasn't like she had many other options.