[center][sub][h3]Sierra Hilton[/h3][/sub][hr][/center] Generally speaking, September 14th went by both incredibly fast, and incredibly slow. All days went by slowly for her though, it seemed. 86,400 seconds in the day ticking away, oftentimes she spent almost as much time trying to think of new things to do as she spent doing them. On December 31st, a leap second was incorporated into the atomic clock- 86,401 seconds that day to allow the world to calibrate as days got progressively longer at the mind numbingly fast rate of about two thousandths of a second per century. On this day, Sierra woke and dressed five of herself figuring that any more would be somewhat overkill for the day ahead of her. She felt her breath catch as she stood in the mirror realizing all at once that this was not her home any longer. It hadn't been for a while, really. Her mother and her father resented her. It was understandable, and they did their best to never show it, but she could see it in their eyes and the way they spoke to one another. It was always a favor to take her for the weekend or so. She was not wanted here much longer. She ate, and packed at the same time. Alternating who was doing what. Her mind was abuzz with activity despite the time of day. It was 6AM now, and her mother was asleep. Sierra would not wake her, she didn't want to see her mother fake a goodbye. She, working as a unit to pack her cars, a lifted 2011 Jeep Wrangler and a 2009 Ford Explorer. After sliding into her seats, two in the Jeep and three in the Ford, she was wordlessly on her way to South Carolina. The Palmetto state was interestingly known as the Iodine state before its paradigm shift. This was due to the uncharacteristically large amount of iodine found in the vegetation that grew there. It was the eighth state to join the Union in 1788, but it was the first state to leave in 1860. It was also where the first battle of the civil war was fought. It was also the peach capital of the world. The South Carolina state seal bore the Latin phrase "Dum spiro, spero,". She breathed a shaky breath at that. [i]While I breathe, I hope.[/i] The trip from northern Maryland to South Carolina was uneventful, but Sierra was never bored. She read, and listened, and watched. Books, movies, chess, she found a way to keep herself occupied while she drove. She couldn't imagine how people did this normally- she would go insane if she had to do this regularly. When she finally arrived at Academy 003, she was slightly earlier than most but far from alone, having beaten most of the crowd by some fifteen minutes. Sierra did what she did best, which was divide and conquer. Four of her began the process of getting the keys to her new lodging and unpacking while one her went to orientation. It came and went, with stragglers coming in here and there and scrambling to their seats- the last of which being a tall Russian man with blue eyes and white streaked brown hair. A real father Christmas character. She did her best to ignore him and focus on the speech. Power training, school, school teams for the yearly showboating, [i]don't bang on campus, but you can do that in town as long as you're back by 8.[/i] A small smile graced her features at that. The faculty shuffled them out of the auditorium and into the cafeteria where a banquet was set up for them. She ended up in line behind old man winter, who was even larger up close towered a full eight inches over her. She was eyeing the food keenly, having gone several hours without eating when the man next to her piped up "It's been minutes since I ate!" Sierra couldn't help it, a snort and laughter bubbled up before she was able to stop it. One of her hands flew up to cover her mouth and nose as she tried to stop it, resulting only in a half strangled laugh and her choking on her own spit. She was standing adjacent to him, unable to see his blind eye. He was cute, and had the rugged wolverine look to him. He was wearing a shirt that said "BACK TO BACK WORLD WAR CHAMPIONS". The phrase tactical retreat came to mind, and Sierra considered making a tactical retreat of her own in some effort to save herself the embarrassment. She opted instead to focus more on the food and hope that Saint Nicholas wouldn't comment, but she had seen this man's type before. This was going to be something. A small part of her hoped it would be something good.