Over the years Henry Wolfe becomes just as much of a fixed point in Ismae's life as her mother has always been. He spends more time on Atrolla, switching between the Earth Embassy and the Alrix Manor. When he does travel off planet for work, which is fairly often, he always makes an effort to Comm Ismae and when he returns there is always a little trinket for Ismae to place in her room.

And by the time Ismae is eleven standard years old her room is a mess of brightly colored trinkets and Earth memorabilia. Most of the Earth memorabilia came from her father's mother. Her Grandmother Sophia, a woman she has never actually met, a woman who sends her Comms and holovideos and pictures of the property her father grew up on. A woman that laughs a bit too loudly and smiles so hard her eyes squint.

Ismae is scheduled to meet her grandmother at the beginning of Earth's summer months.

Her mother won't be going, too busy with matters of the Senate and personal responsibilities to be able to attend, but she smiles as she helps Ismae gather a wardrobe fit for Terran modesty. Ismae isn't overly fond of the thick fabric, denim her father had called it, that makes up her pants nor is she fond of the necklines that seem so determined to strangle her. These clothes are nothing like the loose, billowy fabrics she is use to wearing... But she supposes they will suit her well enough. All things considered.

Fortunately she's not required to wear them until they reach Thomasville where her grandmother lives. And even then her mother has put several Atrollian garments aside for Ismae to take with her.

Gowns much like the one she's wearing now.

They're going to the Opera, a special treat for her father who has never actually been to one despite the fact that he is an ambassador and relatively well off in the eyes of his own people. Ismae has been to a few Operas herself, being a child in Hallitus has it's perks after all, but she's never been as excited about going as she is right now.

"Stop fidgeting." Her mother scolds, reaching out to place her hand over Ismae's.

"Sorry."

"What are we seeing again?"

"Diceros Pristaela."

Her father hums but Ismae knows he has no idea what she's actually talking about.

"It's about the Last King of Atrolla during the war between Atrolla and Reskore. During his reign he created the Senate to help distribute power among the provinces... And eventually he married a Reskoren female to bring peace to our worlds."

"What happened to him?"

Ismae shrugs, "The bride given to him by the Great Rulers of Reskore was a radical... She tore out his throat."

"Jesus."

Beside her, Ismae's mother levels her father with a look that would cow even the most ferocious of beasts. And her father has the decency to blush brightly and stammer out an apology. They act as though Ismae hasn't heard it before. She's been attending The Academy for years now and she's been subject to far worse than a few profanities.

Instead of voicing this, however, Ismae turns her attention to the bright lights and buildings sweeping past them beyond the blue-tinted glass of the transporter's windows.

Hallitus is a beautiful city.

One full of light and gentle music. The people tend to be calmer than those found in the Capital, there is not so much excitement. Hallitus is known for its art and music, not it's business districts or its trade centers or its tourist destinations.

Ismae's home is far quieter in comparison but no less beautiful.

And when the transport unit pulls up in front of the Opera House Ismae waits for her mother and father to exit before stepping out and taking her father's larger hand in her own. Together they gaze up at the golden building, together they watch as men and women of all races and species make their way through the large stained glass doors that lead to the Lobby of the Opera House.

"Come," Her mother commands, already making her way to the door, "we don't want to be late."

The eleven year old offers her father a gentle smile before pulling him along after her mother.

Once they've formed something of a group Ismae speaks with the purple haired Atrollian waiting to take tickets in the Lobby, smiles when the girl calls for the ushers, and practically throws herself into the seat between her mother and father in the box that Sermari has paid for every single time the two of them come to the opera. It's a nice arrangement, grandly furnished and private.

So when the house lights dim and the heavy black curtain pulls apart to reveal an Atrollian man with vibrant blue hair and a crown of starlight upon his brow Ismae leans forward to rest her arms and chin upon the rail.

This is her favorite Opera.

A bit morbid, fairly sad, but all together quite beautiful.

It's performed in Ismae's mother tongue, a language that Atrolla has yet to let off-worlders learn. Ancient and sacred and almost whimsical sounding. When Diceros Pristaela begins to sing, hand clasping the might war hammer at his hip, Ismae is almost sad for her father. He will not be able to understand what is being said, what is being sung. He will not be able to understand the jokes and the rage.

But a quick glance at the Terran man shows Ismae that he doesn't seem very put out. Instead he looks... Fascinated. It's an expression that forces Ismae to remember the fact that her father has never been to an Opera before.

Well, she thinks as one of Diceros Pristaela's generals enters down stage, he will certainly enjoy this.

The first act passes rather quickly as it's shorter than the second and third acts, more of an introduction than anything else. A way to establish characters and give the audience a bit of a history lesson before the plot thickens.

Personally, Ismae's favorite character in the Opera is Ayja Oreamnos.

She'd been a general in Diceros Pristaela's army. Credited with over fifty won battles during the time of her career, she'd been one of the four generals to caution the King against taking a Reskoren bride, and after her King's demise she'd been the one to slaughter Three of the five Reskoren Rulers. Frankly, Ismae thinks she might have been in love with Diceros Pristaela at one point but it's impossible to say if that's true or not as nothing was ever mentioned in any of the historical records or artifacts that had belonged to her.

Though, she had given birth during the war.

A little pink haired boy that she'd named Lelion.

But all the same, Ayja Oreamnos is Ismae's favorite character in the Opera. And when she storms onto the stage, garbed in the traditional garb of an Atrollian General of Old, warpaint staining the golden hue of her skin a vivid black, Ismae finds herself throwing her heart beating rapidly against her breast bone.

The General and the King speak, their voices rising and falling with their rage.

Ayja Oreamnos has just lost three hundred men in a suicide mission given to her by the King. She is angry. She has every right to be. But her respect for the King keeps her from lashing out with her fists and instead forces her to shake and rage as silently as she is able until it is time for the actor to storm offstage once more.

"Ayja!" The King calls, the half moons under his eyes incredibly dark in the blue lighting that illuminates the stage, "My heart walks with you."

The pink haired general nods briskly, eyes sad, before disappearing offstage.

This is one of the last times she will ever see Diceros Pristaela again.

When intermission is called her mother ushers them out of the box so that she might socialize with whoever has traveled to Hallitus to see the Opera. Off worlders and other Senators, Sermari doesn't really care, she socializes with all of them while Henry and Ismae linger at her sides. Sometimes Ismae's father will interject himself into conversations, adding little tidbits of information or asking if this person knows this person or that.

Ismae isn't really interested.

Not until she moves to return to the box and runs right into a tall man with heavy robes and pointed ears.

He is, in an subtle kind of way, eye catching.

"My apologies sir," Ismae bows her head slightly, hand moving to rest over her heart, "I did not see you there."

"Apologies are unnecessary." The man replies, dark eyes cold.

Vulcan, her mind supplies.

His people live on a desert planet, they're also telepathic, able to pick up the thoughts of others through touch and sometimes the emotions of others if the feelings being projected are strong enough.

"Unnecessary perhaps but I feel I owe them all the same." Ismae does not offer her hand despite the fact she wants to. "Ismae Wolfe."

"Ambassador Wolfe's daughter?"

"And Senator Alrix's."

"I see. I've met both of your parents," a long pause and then, "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long live, Ambassador."

The Vulcan male nods once before turning on his heel. Ismae watches as he makes his way down the long hall to where his box must be waiting.

With a slight huff Ismae returns to her own box where she finds her mother and father sitting in their seats. Her father has the playbill open in his lap. Ismae thinks that the playbills are nothing more than a kindness to Atrolla's visitors than anything else.

Ismae lowers herself into her seat, leaning forward to take up her earlier position against the rail, and watches as the velveteen curtains slide open.

~X~

"In recent news a Deltan Ambassador was found dead late yesterday morning. No statement has been released on the Ambassador's death but the police are recommending that all foreign dignitaries remain caut-"

The holo-vid cuts out, forcing Ismae to look over her shoulder at where her father is standing behind her. He looks irritated. Like he can't understand why Ismae would be watching Terran news holos when she should be doing schoolwork or playing with friends. Truth of the matter is that Ismae doesn't have anything better to do and catching up on Terran news is, perhaps, the most interesting thing that's happened in the last few days has been the death of the Deltan Ambassador.

Ismae blinks slowly, turns back to the now dark screen where her holo-vid had been playing moments before, and sighs.

"This is the third murder of an off-worlder on Earth in a year." Ismae says after a moment.

"I know." Her father replies.

"Hmm."

"You know, there are better things to watch than the news." Her father moves to sit beside Ismae on the couch.

"Like what?"

Her father smiles.

"Well," he says. "I've always been rather fond of cartoons."

"Cartoons?"

"Yeah... The really old ones are my favorites. Looney Tunes, The Flintstones, Tom and Jerry. Personally I think Acme was the best cartoon developer but that's just me I guess."

"We don't have cartoons on Atrolla."

"I know, which is why I'm going to show you what you've been missing out on." Her father is all smiles and bright eyes.

And despite the fact Ismae wants to continue watching the news report about the Deltan Ambassador her father's eyes are so hopeful, so bright, that Ismae finds herself pulling her knees to her chin and nodding hesitantly.

"We'll start you off on Tom and Jerry."

It's said absently. More to himself than to Ismae. And then her father is turning his attention to the PADD in his hands, after a moment he seems to find whatever it is he'd been looking for because he passes the PADD to Ismae just as the image of a cat and a mouse appears across the screen.

There's no dialogue but Ismae finds herself entranced by the little brown mouse and the grey cat that keeps attempting to catch him. A giggle bursts from Ismae's mouth as the cat banks right, diving in an attempt to grab the mouse, and promptly slams into a wall.

Ridiculous, impractical, unrealistic.

But funny.

Ismae twists to lean back against the arm of the couch, cradles the PADD in her lap, and misses the relief that flashes in her father's eyes.

~X~

Two Atrollan months later Ismae is standing on the landing pad of a shuttle, her mother is fretting over her and her father is standing behind her, and Ismae is fiddling with the straps of her bag.

It's uncommonly chilly for the time of year. The frigid bite of wind having forced Ismae into a jacket early that morning before she and the rest of her small family had left the Alrix estate and she can still feel the chill despite the layers she's forced herself into. Her mother looks uncomfortable as well but Ismae thinks that to the untrained eye she'd look impassive.

As impassive as a mother who won't be seeing her daughter for months can be anyway.

"You have everything, yes?"

"Mhm."

"And you've contacted your grandmother?"

"She'll be waiting to pick me up at the shuttle station."

It'll take roughly one week to reach Earth from Atrolla if they use warp drive. Which they should as most of the passengers on the ship don't want to spent more than a week in space when they really just want to go home and do whatever it is they plan to do once they've reached Earth.

And Sophia Wolfe will be waiting at the shuttle station to take Ismae back to the home where she raised her children and even a few grandchildren.

"Comm me when you get the chance." Her mother demands as the men and women around them begin boarding the shuttle.

"Every day." Ismae promises.

Then she's reaching out to wrap her arms around her mother. Once she's done embracing her mother Ismae turns her attention to her father, winding her arms around his neck and allowing him to lift her off the floor for a moment before he puts her back on her feet.

"Be good to your grandmother, yeah? She's not as spry as she used to be."

"I will."

"Good. I love you."

Ismae smiles, stepping back toward the shuttle. "I love you two... Both of you... I'll see you in a few months."

And with that she pivots on her heel and races for the shuttle where an Atrollian male with leaf colored hair leads Ismae to her seat. Once she's buckled in alongside the other passengers Ismae settles back to wait out the short trip from the shuttle platform to the courier ship. It'll be a quick trip, less than ten minutes, but Ismae has never been off planet before and she's not quite sure if this is going to be a good experience.

Though, she suspects it won't be to awful. Her father has been off-planet hundreds of times and he's never talked about any adverse side affects. So what if the shuttle is a little shaky? So what if Ismae feels trapped between the padded seat behind her and the firm press of the seat belt across her shoulders?

You're fine, she tells herself as the shuttle pulls away from the station.

Fine, fine, fine.

Ismae sucks in a deep breath as the shuttle rockets away from the ground. Ascending higher and higher until the heavy pull of Atrolla's gravity on the shuttle loosens enough for the driver to slow their progression to the courier ship waiting in Atrolla's orbit.

Without much thought Ismae looks out the little window next to her seat.

Space is beautiful, dark and endless and filled with little pin pricks of light, but Ismae's eye is drawn to the planet she has just left.

She can make out the mauve colored sands that make up the Fahi deserts where Senator Orena Ithys lives, she can also make out the blue-grey mountains of Halitus with the Roinall cutting through it like a flaming ribbon. Ismae has played in the Rionall before, she's swam in those waters, so it's beauty has never been lost on her but seeing it like this? Amongst the bright colors of her planet? It's stunning.

Even Shialbi with it's mauve colored beaches and it's azure water cannot compare.

For a moment Ismae wonders if her father had been as awestruck by the splendor of Atrolla as Ismae is at this moment. She wonders if he'd been even more impressed by the people? Because surely he couldn't have been blind to it? None of the off-worlders who come to Atrolla can be blind to it.

Her thoughts are interrupted as an Atrollian woman places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We'll be boarding the courier in a moment Miss Alrix."

"Thank you," Ismae glances at the badge gleaming on the attendant's vest, "Qydia."

"You're very welcome Miss Alrix."

And then the girl is gone, moving onto the next passenger. Ismae watches her for a moment before turning her attention back to the window. Atrolla is gone, blocked by the too-white walls of the courier ship's landing pad. The girl sighs, fingers curling tightly around the strap of her bag. When it's time to exit the shuttle Ismae does so with hesitant steps, her heart hammering a rapid beat into her breast bone.

This is the first time she's ever been away from her family. The first time she's ever gone off-world. And while she's excited to meet her grandmother and explore the little town her father grew up in Ismae doesn't know if she's ready to do it alone.

But how do you know if you don't try?

Ismae bites her lip as she passes the Atrollian attendants that are ushering passengers to where they need to be. She's been assigned quarters near Observation Deck five which is on the third level of the ship. Her luggage is likely already waiting for her and Ismae doesn't necessarily want to spend more time then she has to in the company of so many strangers.

So she adjusts her grip on her bag and makes her way down the long hall leading to the lifts where there are four other people waiting. Ismae squeezes herself into a corner, careful not to bump against anyone, and smiles briefly at a woman with a Caitian female when they make eye contact with one another. But the moment the lift stops Ismae is off of the lift and making her way down the hall to the room that has been assigned for her.

~X~

"Ismae! Ismae, honey, over here!"

The pink haired girl stands in the middle of the shuttle station, bags against her body, straining to see over or around the men and women that have just gotten off of the courier's shuttle.

Earth is a strange place. The planet is beautiful and vibrant, full of blues and greens, but the atmosphere is a bit thinner than Atrolla's and the people are less vibrantly colored. They stare too. Like they've never seen an Atrollian child before. Perhaps they haven't. But Ismae thinks that it's still rude to stare despite their curiosity.

Suddenly there is a woman standing in front of her. Dark eyes and dark hair and the familiar slope of a jaw greets Ismae before her mind catches up with her, allowing the girl to realize who the woman is.

"Hi honey, you probably do-"

"You are Sophia Wolfe."

"Nonna."

"... Nonna."

Her grandmother smiles so brightly, so happily, that it makes something in Ismae's chest ease a great deal.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure you're starving and I've got so much planned." Her grandmother laughs as she reaches for the heavier of the two bags that linger at Ismae's sides.

"Oh, I can get that." Ismae says, already reaching for the bag.

Her grandmother merely pushes Ismae's hand away before placing her own between the girl's shoulders so that she can guide the younger girl through the station without loosing her.

"I've made up one of the bedrooms for you, I think you'll enjoy it." Her grandmother says after they've exited the shuttle and have settled into the woman's transport unit.

Car, her mind supplies, the Terran's call then cars.

"Thank you, I'm very excited to be here."

"We're excited to have you."

"We're?"

"Oh. Didn't your daddy tell you? You'll be meeting your aunt Maria and her children. They aren't old enough to keep you much company but the neighbors have a boy who is a few years older than you."

"I'm excited to meet them."

And she is.

Ismae doesn't have a big family back on Atrolla. Her mother's parents are dead, her father's family is off-world, and Diru is like a grandfather but he is aging and a Senator to boot. And as Atrollians value family as highly as they do... Well, it had been a bit unusual for Ismae to be an only child to a single mother for as long as she had been. Even now, after Henry Wolfe has settled into Ismae and Sermari's life there are many Atrollians that do not view him... Kindly.

Whatever their reasons are Ismae doesn't necessarily care.

Because she has a family. Parents that love her and a grandmother that is so damn happy to have her here that Ismae is almost taken aback, and cousins that she's never met with parents that actually want to meet her.

"Did your daddy ever talk about Georgia?" Her grandmother asks after a moment.

Sophia is guiding the transport unit off of the main high way and down a road that looks like it might have seen better days but isn't falling apart by any means. An ebony ribbon weaving between trees and fields and even over a little creek that reflects the green of the trees around it but allows Ismae to see the mud below.

It's pretty.

Not like Atrolla... But Ismae loves it.

There's a sort of muted beauty to this place. Exotic but not overwhelming.

"Once or twice."

"I'm not surprised. Your daddy never truly felt at home here." Her grandmother glances at her, dark eyes sad, "I suppose that was my fault."

Ismae frowns.

She's never heard a bad word about her grandmother come out of her father's mouth. Not once. He didn't talk about his childhood often but when he did nothing awful ever got brought up. Sure, Ismae knew her grandfather wasn't a good man but the one time Ismae's father had ever brought up Elijah Wolfe had been enough to let the girl know that he was never to be brought up.

Ever.

But Sophia?

Sophia who is weathered around the eyes and mouth? Sophia who's been nothing but loving to Ismae despite never having met her? Sophia who is so excited to meet is so determined to make Ismae comfortable during her stay?

Henry Wolfe loves his mother.

Ismae understands. Because maybe she doesn't love the woman yet, maybe it's too soon for that, but Ismae thinks she could. Ismae knows she will.

Without thought Ismae says, "My father always spoke fondly of you."

A long moment passes and the only sound is the thrum of the cooling unit and the gentle hum of the engine. It's a peaceful kind fo silence. Easy. Ismae takes this moment to look out the window before turning back to look at the woman who has reached across the car to take her hand in her own.

"Your daddy is a good man."

After that neither of them say anything. They just sit in a gentle kind of quiet as Sophia Wolfe guides the transport unit down a winding dirt road that leads to a large white house with a tree in the yard that has oddly shaped green-yellow fruits hanging from it.

Pears.

Ismae cocks her head to the side, taking in the swaying leaves and the ladder propped against the side.

But when the transport unit stops Ismae doesn't ask about the tree. Instead she gets out and grabs one of her bags while her grandmother takes the other. Then she follows the dark haired woman into the house, up a set of stairs, down a long hall, and to a chipped white door.

Sophia smiles before she pushes it open with her hip.

A bed pressed against the wall, a desk in the far corner, a dresser next to the bed, and a large window facing the rolling country beyond the house.

"Thank you." Ismae says.

"You're welcome... I'll leave you to settle and get cleaned up." Sophia smiles.

And she places a chaste kiss to Ismae's forehead before striding back down the hall, down the stairs, and out of sight.