{ooc: This is my meandering little room thread. Come in, sit down, chat with Rivka and teach her some slang she doesn't know yet.   As a house rule, go with the last thing posted as to what is going on currently. }

Rivka was settling into the school. She was a little lonely; she missed Tamar and Aleena terribly. The three of them where so different yet so close it was hard to explain. Rivka, the observant Orthodox Jew; Tamar, who was Jewish but pretty much secular and Aleena who was Muslim. They'd been inseparable all through school, so now Rivka felt pretty lost without them.

She'd put her clothes away, put out a couple of pictures but the room still needed something. But what?

Rivka was laying on her stomach on her bed, writing out an letter to her father. It was written in Hebrew, thus the text started on the right and went to the left. She idly wondered if she'd ever get fully used to writing things backwards when using English - starting on the left, and writing to the right. She didn't dwell on it long though before continuing her letter. It seemed very quaint, writing it out by hand, but she knew her father liked letters like this, rather than email. 

"Shalom Abba, 
I am well at my new school. I have met some interesting people here. We have a few staff who are human with no powers, but most of them are mutants. The variety, oh you wouldn't believe! 
New York is very chaotic and hard to navigate. Or will be, if you un-ground me..." Rivka wrote, then surrounded 'unground' with little pink hearts. Seriously, how long was he expecting to keep her cooped up here? Being grounded was one of the reasons she was writing out the letter - she was hoping to butter her father up enough that he'd relent. She made a face at the thought though; he hadn't reached the rank of Major by being a push-over, though she had a secret weapon his soldiers didn't - she could call him Abba and bat her eyelashes at him. 
"The people of New York, most are not very nice. It is hard to get directions; no one will talk to you, they all just rush by. Americans, they are very closed. You have to pry them apart to get them to talk, like a pistachio." She paused, tapping her pen on her lips as she pondered that. Israelis, they would talk, and sometimes argue, about just about anything. Politics, religion, relationships... it was all fair game. Just expect to get at least three opinions if you had two Israelis in the same room, her grandmother had said. The saying made her smile, and she hoped she'd get to see her grandmother again soon. 

She added a bit about her classes and her teachers, and about the school itself. Mostly trying to make it sound like a cozy, safe, environment, so that her father wouldn't worry about her. He had yet to be able to come and visit it. The thought made her quirk a smile. Visit? More like 'inspect'. You could take the soldier off the battlefield, but no one would ever take the battlefield out of the soldier. She knew he'd be looking the place over as if it were a barracks. It was probably better that he hadn't been by to visit just yet. 

"I may have a work-study opportunity, if you will approve it. It is working in the library and office, running errands, shelving books and such. Then I could pay you back for my phone. 
All my love.
Shalom, Rivka"