Eirene

It's about a month since Eirene last saw the planet she was born on. Three weeks of ship travel, and three minutes of portaling just so she could face a group of Elders and listen, with the aid of a tall, dark-haired translator, to their pronouncement she could stay on Krypton as long as her petite self was in danger.

She has a house now, of sorts, with a sleeping chamber, bathing chamber, and a third room for eating and socializing. The clothing sent her into a fit of giggling, alarming the poor official who brought her some, but only because it looks very Greek. Her translator is now also her Protector, which means something ominous, she's sure. He also gave her a bracelet, made of a silvery metal that isn't actually silver, with a peace sign on it. It's only slightly adorable.

And, after a week of trying to learn new customs and being stared at by everyone, Eirene is rebelling. Sort of. She conjured up a huge supply of popsicle sticks and glue, then settled in one of the indoor arboriums to lie in wait. Sure enough, by the end of two Kryptonian hours --or cyles-- she's got a small group of children around her and is busy helping to construct a replica of the Trojan Horse, while explaining the entire saga of the Illiad.