Still getting over this teenage angst

Satira had always known her mother to be supportive of her and her brother no matter what, so it came as no surprise when the elder fae she looked like a miniature version of rebuked her claims of how she was supposed to feel. In some ways that made her feel better, but in others it just perplexed her even more. It would’ve been so much easier if she just knew how she was supposed to behave and feel and act rather than being lost in this miasma of uncertainty. Tira looked down at her gray speckled paws as Asla came to sit beside her. "It’s not like I’m upset or angry that he’s here or anything. I just… don’t know how to feel at all. It’s like I want to be happy he’s back, but im just… I dunno…" The smaller hybrid fae let out a slow sigh and shook her head. "I don’t wanna get my hopes up that he’ll stay this time…"

There was a deep pain laced with real fear in her voice as she spoke that final statement into reality. That guilty feeling came clawing its way back up her chest again. Gods, she really was such a terrible daughter for not finding any joy in her father’s return, wasn’t she? A muzzle to one flopped over ear brought her attention back up to her mother, the little wolf-dog listening while Asla explained Mojito’s situation to her. How he had been mistreated in the Armada and had nowhere else to go. Tira’s frown deepened. So he had only come here on Asla’s directions seeking refuge, not even because he had wanted to come find her. That made her heart sink further in her stomach. "You don’t have to be so politically correct around me, Mom. You can call Uncle Azure whatever you really think of him," she reminded her mother with a bit of a rebellious smirk. Azure had wanted nothing to do with her due to her mixed blood. He was a cunt and a prick as far as she was concerned—which worked out great, since he could go fuck himself.

Asla concluded her maternal lesson by reminding Satira that just because Mojito was here didn’t mean she had to pretend everything was okay with them. The touch of Asla’s larger paw over her own was what finally made Tira look back up at her mother again, steel blue pools meeting violet galaxies. "I don’t wanna kick him out and I don’t wanna make him leave. Dad has a right to be somewhere where he’s safe and happy too," said the tawny wolf-dog without missing a beat. "I’m just scared that if I try again with him, am I just gonna get hurt again?" Tira looked up at Asla, looking for some sort of reassurance that she couldn’t give to herself. Asla asked if she had any questions about her father and immediately one came to mind so fast she couldn’t stop herself from just blurting it out. "Did he not want to be around us because of me? Do I remind him of his problems because I have his ears and tail and im not a full wolf?" Throughout her life, Satira had come to love and appreciate so much of who she was. But one part of herself that still plagued her mind to this day was her mixed breeding. It had haunted her father, and now she had to wonder if those were the same ghosts of the past tearing apart their relationship now.

"Satira"