Ismae knew that when she first applied for Starfleet she would be forced to leave home for extended periods of time to not only attend the academy but to explore space as well. In the beginning it hadn't bothered her nearly as much as it probably should have. She would have still be able to contact her parents after all, visit when on shore leave, she wouldn't truly be leaving Atrolla as it would always be a part of her.

Now that she's seventeen and packing away all of the things she'll need while at the Academy...

An overwhelming sense of nostalgia hits Ismae as she runs her fingers over the patchwork quilt of green and gold her grandmother had made for her all those years ago when she was a little girl first learning about her grandmother.

With a sigh Ismae turns away from the quilt to continue packing her belongings into the two suitcases she will be taking with her to San Francisco.

Most of her more Terran styled clothing end up in the first suitcase along with a few formal dresses, a jewelry box, and a makeup kit. It's all packed a very specific way to maximize the available space but carefully enough that none of her makeup or her jewelry will become damaged during transport. The next suitcase is a mix of clothes that didn't fit in the first suitcase, some shoes, a set of bed sheets and blankets, and a couple of photos carefully wrapped in the fabric.

Once the bags are packed Ismae runs a hand through her hair and sighs.

With nothing really left to do or worry over Ismae lowers herself onto her bed and stares at the room around her.

It's no where near blank but it certainly isn't full either.

She wonders if her parents will come here when she's gone and feel as if there's nothing really there to remember her by. Ridiculous of course. But Ismae understands why they may be hesitant to come to her room after she leaves. Ismae doesn't realize she's begun rubbing at the space between her thumb and forefinger until the skin begin to warm under her ministrations.

Dropping her hands to either side of her Ismae shakes her head.

You're going to be fine, she tells herself, this is what you've always wanted.

And it's still what she wants.

Going out into space, helping people, pioneering, possibly protecting Federation Planets from hostile threats are just a few of the reasons Ismae's pushed herself so hard. Being the best at the academy isn't necessary but she wants to be the best. Wants to know that every good grade, every bruise, every stress induced crying session is a product of her own determination and will to succeed.

Ismae sucks in a deep breath as she rises from her bed, grabs hold of her suitcases, and makes her way toward the door to set her items down before she heads off into her closet to grab her cadet uniform.

It arrived about a week ago. All crisp lines and bright red fabric. Ismae can't even bring herself to be apprehensive over whether or not the uniform will clash with her hair because it's finally here. Her uniform. The uniform Starfleet send over so that Ismae can arrive at the Academy dressed just like all of the other cadets. Smiling brightly, Ismae grabs the uniform from where it's hanging and makes her way back to her luggage.

Once everything's adjusted and gathered Ismae begins making her way to the foyer so that she can drop off her bags before going to the kitchen.

She doesn't leave until tomorrow but her mother had insisted she have all her things packed before then so that they can be loaded into the transport unit. Ismae also suspects it's for her mother's own peace of mind. This way they'll have more time to spend together tomorrow before Ismae needs to be on the shuttle that'll take her to the ship heading for Earth.

"Ismae? Starlight, come into the sitting room for a moment will you?" She hears her mother call.

Without turning to look in the direction her mother's voice has come from Ismae drapes her uniform across her suitcases so that it doesn't wrinkle and quickly makes her way to the sitting room so that she can see what her mother wants with her.

The older Atrollian is sitting in her favorite chair near the large windows that allow soft, natural lighting into the room, lounging in the chair across from her is Ismae's father. Both of them look pleased to see her, a bit sad perhaps but pleased none-the-less, and her mother is quick to gesture her closer so that she can wrap her fingers around Ismae's wrist and place a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Once she's been released Ismae lowers herself into one of the remaining chairs where she crosses her ankles and places both hands in her lap. Years of etiquette training and following in the footsteps of power-house role models have made the posturing a subconscious act. After a moment, however, she moves to place one elbow on the armrest so that she can lean against the side of the chair.

"Have you got everything packed then?" Her mother asks after she's stopped fidgeting.

"Yes, everything's packed and ready to go."

"When do you leave?" Henry asks.

"I need to be at the shuttle station by four standard." Ismae says.

"So early?"

"My shuttle leaves at six."

"And all of your classes have been registered?" Her mother inquires, seemingly unperturbed by the early departure time.

Why would she be? Sermari Alrix has been subjected to more than her fair share of early morning shuttle rides. Life as a Senator is typically rather busy and the earlier business with other Senator's can be seen to the earlier Sermari can tend to more localized matters.

"Yes, I've already spoken to my advisory officer and he's sent me several communications over the last few weeks."

As a cadet going into the tactical and security track Ismae's advisory officer had been quick to tell her that the course load would be rather intense; full of hands-on training experiences, inter-species relations courses, and simulations which isn't counting the extensive courses she'll have to take in order to minor in medicine. Captain Pike had also been quick to tell Ismae that her test scores were promising and as such he expected great things from the Attrolian. Ismae has never been one to balk at the idea of work but the thought of everything she will have to succeed at is... nerve wracking. Yes, that's the best way to put it she supposes.

"Have you been assigned a dorm?"

"I'll receive everything at orientation when I arrive." She tells her father.

Captain Pike had told her that while she'd already been assigned her dorm and such it would be prudent for her to attend Orientation as it would allow her the opportunity to make friends with other Cadets outside of the classroom. When she'd told Leonard this he'd scoffed and told her it was because the Academy wants to make sure the off-worlders get the opportunity to ask questions and clear up any cultural confusions there might be. Ismae understands both of their reasoning and hasn't said much else on her feelings toward orientation.

"What classes are you taking?" Her mother's inquiry is soft but it catches Ismae's attention.

"Tactical training, Astrophysics, Biochemistry, Exochemistry, Diplomacy, Strategy and Tactics, and Anatomy." Ismae lists off the courses she remembers Captain Pike helping her chose.

"How many credit hours is that?"

"About seventeen."

Her father makes a face; lips pressing into a firm line as his eyebrows furrow.

"Will you be able to handle the work load with so many hours?" He demands and Ismae nods.

"The classes aren't all on the same day so I've been able to set up my study schedule." She says, finger gliding absently along the silver embroidery of the chair, "I shouldn't have any problems."

"Will you have enough time to socialize?" Her mother asks, eyebrow raised questioningly.

Their people are a social bunch and often wither in isolated environments. Ismae doubts her schedule her first semester will allow for intensive bouts of interaction but she isn't going to be cooped up in her dorm or the library all of the time either. It'll be a careful balancing act but Ismae thinks she can handle her classes and personal life well enough. Understanding why her mother would be worried Ismae is quick to explain how she's decided her studying schedule so that it gives her ample time to go out and make friends among the community.

While her mother clearly isn't convinced she says nothing more and quickly turns the topic to something lighter. Apparently her grandmother has insisted that Ismae spend her short breaks with her if she doesn't want to stay at the Academy and can't justify going back to Atrolla, she's even opened her home to Henry and Sermari. They've planned on going and spending a Terran Christmas with her since it's not something they've done before. Atrollian's don't celebrate Christmas, or Easter, or most of the other holidays popular on Earth as they aren't, well, from Earth. Henry might have, once, in his youth, but he so rarely shows an interest in the Holidays and celebrations of his home world that Ismae wonders if there's a darker reason than her father simply not being a Holiday lover. She never asks and he never says anything but he's always celebrated her holidays and traditions even though he's not Atrollian.

Atrollian holidays are, like some Terran holidays, based in Religion or cultural tradition, one such holiday is the Hallad; a period of six days dedicated to the remembrance of those gone and the celebration of those who are or will come to be living. For the duration of the first three days all Atrollians don grey clothing and cover their hair which dark fabric, they dull the golden hue of their skin with special powders, and people gather to tell the stories of their dead friends and families. On the evening of the third day the masses travel to various temples to be anointed in Vlunkade oil- it represents rebirth, life and joy, it smells similar to an Earth Orange- after which the High Priestesses will recite passages from the Well of Stars, after which the true festivities begin. The streets are filled with colorful flowers, here people dress in their best traditional garb and twist their hair into intricate designs, and for the last three days people dance, sing, eat, and come together as a community.

It is Ismae's favorite holiday but she thinks she could learn to enjoy Earth's Christmas too. But even if she doesn't it'll be nice to see her grandmother again. Trips to Earth are far and few but Sophia has always made sure to Comm her whenever possible. still, it's not the same. Ismae would much rather see her grandmother in person than see her on a screen. She thinks it'll be good to spend a holiday with the older woman, especially if her mother and father will be making the trip to Earth to do so as well.

Sighing, Ismae leans back and allows her head to rest against the soft cushioning behind her even as her father begins speaking once more.

"Do you need us to send anything of yours through the mail?"

Ismae gnaws at her bottom lip for a moment before nodding, "I might have you send some pillows and blankets but I'll let you know once I see the dorm."

She has a texture thing and so certain fabric weaves bother her, make her feel like her skin is going to crawl off her bones. While she can handle it for a few weeks with itchy, uncomfortable blankets Ismae doesn't want to go much longer than that, but, she also doesn't want to have her parents ship blankets and pillows to the academy unnecessarily. Maybe she'll have them send everything anyway and then she can just keep everything on hand should she need them. Who knows, maybe she'll end up making great friends with other girls in her classes and they'll have sleep overs and such in the dorms. If that's allowed. Ismae was given the cadet manual which outlined the do's and don't's of academy living but she's not sure what the unofficial rules are.

"Do you have any ready?" Her mother wonders, pulling Ismae from her thoughts.

"There are some stacked in the back of the closet." She says.

"I don't remember the dorms being all that uncomfortable," her father remarks, "I'd say they were pretty homey, actually."

Her mother and her share a look.

Henry, for as wonderful as he is, tends to think everything is comfortable. The man could sleep on a cluster of rocks and wake up the next day perfectly refreshed, rested, and ready to conquer the day. Ismae and Sermari have learned to take anything he says in regards to comfort with a dash of skepticism.

"I'll have some blankets sent for her, pillows as well." Her mother flicks an invisible piece of dirt off her skirt. "Would you like me to send you anything else? Sweaters? Warming materials? I'm uncertain how cold it gets during the winter months."

"Probably wouldn't matter either way. I'd be wearing the uniform most of the time anyway."

Her mother nods her understanding before offering Ismae a soft smile before the three of them lapse into companionable silence. Eventually, her parents begin discussing ambassadorial business and other such things while Ismae listens with a fond sort of smile. She's going to miss this, listening to her parents talk about their days like this. It'll be different, she supposes, when they comm each other. It isn't a discussion they've had yet but Ismae thinks that maybe that's for the best as it might be a little redundant to plan out specific times to talk when Ismae isn't even sure if her planned schedule is applicable.

Absently, Ismae rubs the pad of her thumb over the star-shaped scar on the top of her hand near her thumb. It's a pale scar, startlingly so against the golden hue of her skin, but it's the only physical reminder she has of what happened during her Fhisel. With a sigh she drops her hand into her lap and stares at the ceiling, content to listen to her parents bicker about a new possible-law.

~X~

The trip to Earth is long and full of Ismae finding new ways to entertain herself so that she doesn't get bored. She calls Leonard and her grandmother, sends delayed messages to her parents so that they don't feel obligated to stop what they're doing to respond, and begins working on the new sets Refeek had instructed her to study. Most of them are Klingon fighting styles mixed in with some Romulan and a little Reskoren. There's not much she can do to learn in terms of physicality as she's not going to accidentally harm herself trying to teach herself new techniques but she does study the movements, the theory, and the requirements of the new moves while corresponding with Rafeek and an Atrollian living on Earth who trained with the purple haired male who has agreed to take over Ismae's training. J'orah Voshii is his name and Ismae thinks they'll get along well enough as educator and student.

He and Ismae work out a regime centered around classes, her designated study times, and when they think any class outings might take place but with no class schedules to go off of they can't really determine when her tactical training instructor will take the cadets out for field training so it's an issue they'll have to work around. Tentative planning at it's finest, really.

Thankfully she'd gotten a a room without another occupant. She can only imagine how annoying she'd be to anyone having to share a room with her as all she's really been able to do over the trip is study what material she can, talk to her friends and family, and fall into the basic stretches and exercises Rafeek had recommended to keep her body active during the trip. With hardly any diversion from her daily routine Ismae can imagine anyone having to bunk with her would become rather put out after a while.

Ismae rolls her shoulders before settling back into her bed with her PADD propped up in her lap. Having retired to her quarters hours ago after dinner Ismae had decided to catch up on some light reading in an attempt to get her mind off of everything and had ended up tucked into bed with her PADD and a few lighter science articles she's been meaning to get through. She marks a few that Leonard might enjoy and once she finishes with her articles she sends them to him via delayed message with the hope that he enjoys them. Leonard deserves some happiness in his life at the moment as he'd mentioned some marital problems happening between him and his wife Vivian. Having met the woman all those years ago during that first summer spent with her grandmother Ismae can say that she's not overly fond of the woman, a certain amount of distaste for her and her actions that are currently causing Leonard so much pain. Not, of course, that Leonard is blameless in all of this. Ismae knows Leonard, knows that sometimes he cares more about his work than his personal life and that he can be a pain in the ass most of the time and that he gripes and interjects sarcasm as a way to hide his worry. While it might not seem like much those are all things that can put a strain on relationships, especially one as fast paced and sudden as Vivian and Leonard's ha been.

Air rushes past her lips in a puff that makes some of the hair hanging in her face flutter wildly. She puts the PADD aside as she moves to settle back into her bed, curling around a pillow and burying herself in the course texture of the blanket. Only a few more days and she'll be at the Academy, she'll be in her dorm, she'll be able to sleep comfortably. Huffing, Ismae rolls over, closes her eyes, and attempt to fall into something resembling restful slumber.

~X~

Red is not a color Ismae tends to wear as most shades clash with the almost-too-vibrant pink of her hair, but as she slips into the high-waisted skirt of her uniform and then into the matching jacket she can't help but think that it looks... decent. The red isn't too bright nor is it too much, and the golden hue of her complexion helps to bring the pink of her hair and the red of her uniform together in a way that doesn't look garish. Ismae smiles as she smooths down her uniform jacket.

Deciding that she's not going to look any better Ismae grabs her things and makes for the corridor, carefully allowing herself to be pulled into the crowd of beings making for the shuttles that'll cart them to the San Francisco shuttle station. Ismae weaves through the throng of excited tourists and reaches her designated shuttle within a few minutes, opting for a seat in the front so she can be one of the first off. While the other passengers board Ismae pulls out her PADD and checks her messages to see if she's gotten anything from the Academy which turns out to be useless as there's nothing new waiting for her to read. In the end she just goes over the content of the orientation guide and schedule until the shuttle pilot tells them to put away their devices and buckle in.

One would think that with as far as technology has come entering and exiting planetary atmosphere's would be a little smoother.

Ismae watches as the vast, limitless ocean of space bleeds into hazy not-quite-blue-but-not-white-either that finally gives way to clouds and endless blue skies. She watches, fascinated, as the San Francisco skyline comes into view. It's so different from what she saw in Georgia; towering buildings of glass and gleaming metal that reach up to brush the clouds. All too soon the shuttle pulls in to the station and the pilot thanks them and wishes them safe travels. Ismae helps an elderly Orion man off of the shuttle before rushing off in pursuit of a small cluster of cadets carefully making their way through the station.

Orientation is an all day kind of thing as it's held the Friday before classes begin, giving the cadets enough time to settle and find their way around campus, but Ismae still wants to get there as early as possible. She'd been sent instructions on how to get to campus, where to find the courtyard where Orientation is being held, and who to talk to once she gets there so thankfully she isn't forced to wander around the shuttle station like a fool in search of the transport units waiting to take all of the new cadets to campus. They all end up on a bus that takes them on a scenic route of campus before dropping them off mere feet a large open area full of soft looking grass, thin sidewalks, and surrounded by towering buildings.

She's staring at the eclectic artitecture styles when an Andorian woman in cadet reds comes up and offers her a polite, if thin, smile.

"Ismae Alrix-Wolfe?" The woman asks as she glances at the PADD in her hand.

"Yes."

"My name is Tyraa Sh'isheron, I will be your guide today." she then taps away at her PADD for a moment and not long after Ismae's chimes to alert her to a new message, the Andorian then pivots on her heel and begins walking, "These are but some of the cadet dorms. You've been assigned to room 417 in Bellerive Hall, I've sent you a a map of campus, an event schedule, and the campus guide book."

"Thank you."

Tyraa nods curtly but doesn't stop going, marching her way across campus to a large building across the courtyard as Ismae follows after her, careful not to accidentally run into another cadet or tip her luggage over. They pass a plaque mounted on the building by the door that reads Bellerive Hall in pretty golden block lettering, Ismae can't help but smile even as Tyraa brusquely guides her toward the lift across the lobby, which is decorated in pale grey with shocks of bright red and yellow. Tyraa explains the rules of the dorm to her, tells her where the closest restaurants are, and then tells Ismae how best to avoid trouble with the resident assistants. By the time they reach room 417 Ismae is attempting to memorize as much information as she can and barely remembers to thank Tyraa when she hands off an access card and leaves.

Sighing heavily Ismae holds the access card in front of the scanner and pushes open the door.

A quick glance around the dorm as she enters shows two beds, two study spaces, a small living space, an even smaller kitchenette, and a pretty raven haired Orion woman striding out of the bathroom. She stops short when she sees Ismae, a sort of confusion lighting her eyes before it fades into absolute glee.

"My name is Tavi." The Orion woman says, dark eyes blazing.

"Ismae Alrix-Wolfe."

"Did Tyraa bring you up here too? I came in about two hours ago and she didn't seem all that thrilled to see me, hope she was nicer to you." as she speaks Tavy moves to drape herself over the bed closest to the bathroom.

Orion females, Ismae knows, are masters in seduction. The entire misconception of the Orion Slave Girl a carefully crafted facade that has probably worked a little too well as most people who don't know about Orion culture fall victim to perceived notions about the species. That being said, Ismae knows that Orions can be just as loyal and dedicated as any other species within the Federation, so she smiles brightly at the other female as she makes her way over to the bed closest to the door.

"I don't think she cared for me much either." Ismae admits as she places her luggage on the bed.

Tavi sighs, "Figures our guide would be less than thrilled to be here."

Laughing, Ismae opens up her bags and begins gathering up clothes to transfer to the dressers and the small closet to the left of her bed. There's more space than she honestly thought she'd be getting but still not quite enough for all of her things to fit. Thankfully her spare uniform is able to hang against the door that Ismae doesn't have to worry about the fabric wrinkling.

"What's your major?" She hears Tavi ask.

"Tactical tract, you?"

"Engineering."

"Want to play with warp cores then?" Ismae asks, hoping for lighthearted teasing.

"More like I want to make all the prissy human boys choke on their misogyny."

This earns a loud snort from Ismae that would have had her mother's head spinning had she witnessed it. Ismae shakes her head as she carefully unwraps a photo to put on the top of the bare expanse of dresser.

"I respect that."

Tavi smirks at her, flips curly ebony hair over her slender shoulder, and moves to make her way across the space to stand on the other side of Ismae's bed. Her roommate looks over the contents of Ismae's suitcase but never reaches out to touch it, she even keeps a respectable distance between them even though she's clearly seeing what kind of items Ismae brought from home. Dark eyes linger on a set of her shoes before a large smile breaks out over Tavi's face.

"Atrollian?"

"Half, yes."

Tavi's eyes soften a bit. It's not pity, but it's obvious Ismae's admission has endeared her to the Orion woman. Someone in her family must be half-human, or maybe she's currently in love with a human herself. Impossible to tell really. Ismae isn't going to stick her nose in anyone's business by asking either. Instead, she offers another smile before moving to shove her shoes in the closet along with the now empty suitcase.

"There's going to be some sort of student interaction event tonight in the main quad if you're interested in going with me." Tavi says as she moves to sit at the edge of Ismae's bed.

"Oh, sure, I'd love to."

Ismae wants to make friends with Tavi, wants to be able to have at least one friendly face in this sea of red unfamiliarity, so if going to this student interaction event makes that easier then so be it. She'll just have to either way to explore campus or head out in the next few minutes and wander for as long as she can before she's forced back to the dorms. The event calendar should tell her everything she needs to know about the event- where to go, what to wear, when to be there- so as long as she gets back well before the designated times Ismae should have enough time to find her class buildings and the library.

"Great! I'm really excited."

"Yeah," Ismae agrees, "me too."

And that lingering feeling of anxiety suddenly dissipates when Tavi reaches out and curls her fingers around Ismae's wrists, pulls her closer, plants a sloppy yet chaste kiss on her cheek, and flounces away toward the kitchenette. Ismae shakes her head as she moves to finish unpacking to the sound of Tavi clanking around in the kitchen only a few feet away.