(Tennyson: "Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals / From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure, / And bosom beating with a heart renewed. / Thy cheek begins to redden through the gloom, / Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine, / Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team / Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise, / And shake the darkness from their loosened manes, / And beat the twilight into flakes of a fire." It's from Tithonus, a poem he wrote about one of Aurora's lovers. Would you know I was fucking with you if I said "the other side of Thrace is also Thrace"? That's comedy, come on.)
Kara enters the Oracle's tent, and calls out; on an altar she sees a goddess, cast in gold: they've taken away her hands, and replaced them with wings. Kara Thrace has hands. Six years ago they gave her wings. Yolanda Brenna, who has an old-world face, appears, one eye obscured as she peeks around a wall. With one eye on Kara, she almost smiles: "The goddess Aurora. Take it, it's yours." (This was supposed to be Selloi again, but the schedule didn't work out.) "What the hell am I gonna do with this?" She'll know, when it's time. Brenna holds out her hands, asking Kara to sit. Kara kneels across an altar from the woman, a huge ceremonial bowl between them, filled with water. With the sound of dripping, with the lights playing across the water and onto their faces, you'd think we were in the presence of the Hybrid. Or on an MKULtra trip, or in the Temple of Five, or sitting with Boomer, listening to the water. Maybe last time, Kara was the interrogator and someone else was the prisoner. The players change, the story remains the same: it's not just Gaius's trial, and it never was. She takes the Oracle's hands.