Mojito had to bite down his frustration as he approached the border, once more he felt he'd been left out of any decision-making when it came to his own daughter. But Mojito had to remind himself this was really his own fault this time, unlike when Asla had chosen to take their daughter without so much as consulting him before making the decision, this time he hadn't been around to even be consulted. Mojito sighed, he hadn't known how to handle the resentment he'd been harboring for Asla and it had driven him to range farther away from the small group than he probably should have. But Mojito knew he needed to change that. The kids would be adults very soon and he wanted to make sure he maintained a relationship with his daughter, the only family he still really had.

Mojito stopped a few pawsteps away from the border, turning his gaze towards the smattering of rocks, the mountain of an island rising high above the landscape. What if they were all the way over there and his voice never reached her? Mojito took a breath and tipped his head back, calling for his daughter. Then the man settled himself on his haunches. He honestly didn't expect that she'd arrive alone, no doubt whoever had taken them in would be curious to know who was calling for her, or maybe Asla would turn up... He would have to deal with that if it came up, but for the moment he just wanted to talk to his daughter.

"Speech!"

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Satira hadn’t been exactly sure how she was supposed to feel about her family’s move from vagabonds into the service of another pack, one she had never heard of nonetheless. She had thought that they’d left the Armada to escape the confines of pack life, yet now Aslatiel was bringing them into the folds of strangers, making the adolescent girl question whether her mother’s reason for leaving the Armada had been the whole truth. But she was bound to her family; where they went, she did too. They were all she had in this world and all she clung to. If her mother said that this was what was best for them, who was she to question? Asla hadn’t led her or Arcturus astray yet. If they were to be mercenaries helping out this new pack, then that’s what they’d be, she supposed.

The wolf-dog had spent most of her time wandering about the island the pack named Elysium called their home. It was very pretty, but perhaps too far north and chilly for her tastes. With winter drawing upon Boreas, it would only be a matter of time before the frigid colds of the season claimed the northern territories once more. This would be the farthest north she’d spend a winter. Today, Tira had been roaming and exploring the mainland section of Elysium, sniffing about the field of rocks while she got her bearings for her new temporary home when the familiar call from her father came from the nearby border—for her. Satira looked up with a start, her heart lurching in her chest. Her father had been mostly absent for the past few seasons since they’d all departed the Armada. Tira didn’t know what to make of Mojito’s distance, nor of how he seemed to come and go as he pleased. She knew of the troubles between her parents, but after more than a year of the turbulence, it was difficult to not begin to suspect she was the reason behind it all. What other reason would a father have for not wanting to be there to raise his daughter?

Satira hesitated, caught between wanting to run to her dad like she had always done before, and not wanting to disrespect the alphas of the pack. These were their lands to govern and receive visitors and she was their guest. After some minutes of debate, Tira steeled herself with a deep breath and headed for the border. The unmistakable alabaster form of her father was distinct against the sea of green and gray, and as soon as she laid eyes on him, Tira felt her throat tighten and her heart ache. Still, she carried herself forward, walking up to her sire with apprehension in her pale blue eyes. "Hi, Dad," she greeted him in soft tones, stopping just across the border from him, peering up at him while she waited to hear what excuse he’d use this time when he tried to apologize for vanishing from her life again.

"Satira"

Mojito waited, stiffly. He wouldn't have blamed his daughter if she never showed up. It would have broken his heart, would have probably broken him, but he wouldn't have blamed her. Still, there was relief when he spotted her familiar figure approaching across the mostly open field. He fought the urge to rise to his paws and run over and hold her. He allowed a small smile even as he was flooded with sadness for the distance he could feel between them.

"Hey, Tira." He said, his voice was soft. He would not make a move to close the gap between them, both because he wasn't about to cross a pack boundary and also because the last thing he wanted to do was force himself on his daughter. He didn't even try to gesture her over. He would respect whatever space felt comfortable for the small girl.

"I'm sorry for showing up out of the blue, I'm sorry for disappearing on you." He sighed, though he kept his gaze on her. "You are owed many more apologies and proper explanations." Mojito swallowed the lump in his throat, he was about to give her the first of many chances to fully and finally push him away, and Mojito knew he loved her so much that he would leave right then if she asked him. "Do you mind if we have a talk? I'll talk, you only need to listen."

"Speech!"

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Mojito's stance was stiff and the look of anxiousness in the pale blue eyes that she also wore was a near mirror of her own. Satira really was her father's daughter in many regards. Though she tried to be the picture of coolness and play things off as detached and impassive, it was hard to sit there with him so close, yet feeling like he was miles away. She didn't know how long it would be until he vanished again, like a ghost that haunted her intermittently. Her aching heart wanted nothing more than to just run to him and be surrounded in his embrace so she could feel like everything was okay again. Her brain refused to let her though, denying her the opportunity to get hurt when he inevitably disappeared again. At what point would her just stop coming back? At what point would she finally stop mattering enough for him to make the effort? The thought that he might have moved on, forgotten her, started a life elsewhere without her, it hurt more than she tried to let on—and though her expression remained stoic, the hurt in her eyes shone through. But would he even notice...?

Mojito greeted her back in much the same way she had greeted him, both awkwardly sitting just on opposite sides of Elysium's borders as if there were a physical force field keeping them apart. He sighed and her sire apologized for disappearing again. Tira only gave him a small nod in reply; how many times had he apologized for disappearing from her life now? She'd stopped keeping count. To be fair to him, she hadn't exactly made much effort towards looking for him either, but she hadn't been allowed to venture far from her mother's group. Her father declared that she was owed more apologies and explanations, but Tira didn't want more apologies. Explanations, maybe, but apologies? No. She was tired of hearing how sorry both of her parents were that they were too busy doing other things to focus on her.

He asked after a moment if they could talk. He'd do all the talking, she just needed to listen. Satira rolled her shoulders in a shrug, her ears bobbing slightly with the movement. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?" The yearling's response was short and dispassionate, but thankfully she'd had enough control over herself to keep the emotional quiver out of her voice. She'd hear Mojito out. He was her dad and she wanted to hear his side of things too. It would give Tira the chance to ask him the things weighing on her mind in turn.

"Satira"

For all the ways Satira resembled him, Mojito saw her mother in her too, in the way she protected herself with a chill that could cut him right to the bone. She did not push him away but it was clear she was putting a wall between them, he hoped that one day he might be able to help tear that wall down, but for now, at least it was enough to know she would listen.

"Your mother and I..." Mojito hesitated for a moment, the last thing he wanted to do was to poison the well. He and Asla might not have been on good terms for some time but he had no desire to make that his daughter's issue... More than he already had. "We've not seen eye to eye for a while now." That was probably the most diplomatic way of putting it, he would keep the resentment from his tone choosing instead to keep a steady if conservative cadence. "Your old man, he's not so good with confrontation and I am not too proud to admit I chose to try and avoid my problems rather than face them."

"And that has not been fair to you." He sought to meet his daughter's gaze, the strength of his conviction strong in his voice. "I love you, and your mother and in trying not to hurt you both with my inability to handle my emotions I still did wrong by you. My relationship with your mother is not your burden to carry, but by my inability to deal with it I wasn't there for you."

He was once more approaching a door, one he knew his daughter could slam directly in his face if she so chose. "I cannot take back the time I lost, but if you are willing I'd like to stop running. I want to be there for you, if you'll have me."  He wanted to be a real father to her, even if only for a while longer. Mojito did not yet know how to broach the way his heart tugged him towards another, that he hoped to one day find love again. But that wasn't really a conversation for this moment, his daughter was the most important wolf in his life, and though thoughts of the speckled man could plague him he knew he would always try to put his daughter first.

"Speech!"

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Satira wasn't left waiting long before Mojito began to speak, revealing to the young woman just how deeply the issues between her sire and dam had run. She had known her mother and father weren't in love. She'd seen the ways they avoided one another, barely spoke and when they did it was never in front of her and in hissed whispers, and she couldn't recall one time she'd ever seen her parents be affectionate with one another. Mojito admitted he had difficulties with confrontation, something Satira realized she could empathize with. She'd been avoiding this exact conversation for... how long now? It felt like all her life she'd noticed the issues and just ignored them, repressed the hurt and confusion, pretended like things weren't falling apart around her while she sat there powerless and adrift in an endless sea of turmoil. But she couldn't avoid it... not anymore. Not with her mother and uncle doing their own thing by themselves, and not with her father drifting in and out of the picture doing gods knew what on his own. Something had to give, and the wolf-dog had a feeling she knew what it would be.

All the while he spoke, Tira never looked away from Mojito, so when he sought out her gaze, he received it. Though she wore the impassive expression of her mother, her eyes betrayed all of the feelings of confusion and listlessness she'd felt her entire life. All the confusion and uncertainty about who or what she was, where she belonged, what she was supposed to do were reflected in those pallid pools of crystal blue. Hearing her father say he loved her wrenched her heart in her chest, and all she wanted was to go snuggle up with him and start pretending everything was good again like when he'd cuddle her as a tiny puppy. But those days were done and gone. Too much had happened, too much had changed for her to keep pretending everything was the same. Mojito finished by asserting that he was done running from his problems with Asla and that he wanted to be a part of her life—and that was the straw that broke her.

Satira closed her eyes and shook her head slowly, her small body quivering as she fought back the wave of emotions threatening to manifest in a gut wrenching sob. She didn't want to break down like this. She was supposed to be strong, like her mother expected her to be; composed, like her father sitting before her was. But she was neither of them. She was just Satira, the lost little half-breed always caught in the middle. No matter how brave of a face she put on, she was the one caught in the crossfire when everything went wrong. Satira swallowed back the tightness in her throat and swallowed a deep, measured breath to try and gather herself again before gradually opening her eyes to look back up at her father. He looked so remorseful and upset. Rising to her dainty paws, Tira slowly closed the gap between them, stepping up to stand right on the border before her father. She regarded him with gentle yet sad eyes, forcing on a weak smile for him.

"It's okay, Dad. I know you and Mom don't really love each other. Not the way parents are supposed to." Maybe she was still a little naive with a fantasy of a loving family in her head as the ideal parents, but it didn't change the fact that she had seen how dysfunctional Asla and Mo's relationship had been from the moment she could begin to understand things like that. Seeing Asla with Indigo and how they interacted had further solidified in her mind that her parents were never meant to be. It was a sad truth she'd come to accept. "Mom's been teaching me things about growing up. About things adults do, and puppies, and how to avoid them. And I think... I think that's what happened with you, isn't it?" she asked, looking up at her father with that weak smile still on her face while she bore her wounded heart and the conclusions she'd come to. "You and Mom were having fun and I... I was a consequence. You weren't trying to have me, I just sort of... happened, right? You didn't want to be a dad, and then I came and... well, I guess it ruined your relationship with Mom."

It was tearing Tira up inside to speak the words she'd been ruminating on for some time now. After the lessons on the birds and the bees with Asla, all of a sudden everything made sense. Asla wanted her to be so careful because she hadn't wanted to have her or Arcturus when she did, so she was sparing her daughter the same fate. Mojito had just been caught up in all of it and was so unprepared, he just fell apart. It all made sense in her head: the reason her parents always fought, the reason they never seemed to want to be together with her or do anything with her, the reason why he dipped out so often and Asla poured all her focus elsewhere. She had been the cause of their relationship imploding. Her and Arcturus both—but his father had gone and died, so they never saw the fallout there. Tira sniffled back a few misting tears from her eyes, still doing her damnedest to remain strong while she reached a tentative paw across to rest over one of Mojito's, wondering if this would be the last time she ever got to touch him or see him. "It's okay, Dad. I understand. You didn't want this, and I don't think Mom did either. I don't blame you. I'm sorry I messed things up with you and Mom. But... if you'd be happier somewhere else, I don't wanna ruin anything else." Satira softly went to tap her paw against his, clenching her jaw to keep the forced smile where it was. "You deserve to be happy too, Dad. And I know... I know that's not with me anymore."

"Satira"

As Satira shook her head Mojito felt his heart sink, but he would not break down, not here. He would wait, would hear her out and when she asked him to leave would with dignity and with the last lesson he could impart to her, that she was worthy of others respecting her wishes. She rose to her paws and Mojito followed her with his gaze the whole time, his chest tightening as he realized how close she was, that she was right there and he couldn't reach out to her, because he thought she did not want him to.

But as Satira started to speak Mojito found himself frozen. He wanted to shake his head, to say that he did love Asla, was frustrated with her sure but he would always love her. But they didn't love each other in the same way, and that wasn't wrong but it meant they would have always fallen apart in the end. He knew that now, he'd been the one to break up with her but in the end, it always would have happened, he had only barely managed to keep himself civil around Naiche even while knowing that he didn't have her heart the way she had his. But Satira kept talking and his unspoken words died on his tongue. His jaw clenching and his mind whirling.

He'd done this, he'd done this to his own daughter. All the identity issues he'd struggled with as a child, which he'd wanted to shield his daughter from... He'd done that to her. That cut deep, and if not for the shock that had rooted him to the spot he probably would have broken down then. Her paw brushing on his was the spark he needed, without thinking, without even really registering the thought that crossed his mind Mojito was on his paws, stepping forwards, toes dangerously close to the borderline and then he was flinging a foreleg out to try and scoop his daughter in towards him, to pull her into the biggest bear hug he could manage.

"You are the best thing to ever happen to me." He said it with so much conviction, so much force it was practically a growl. "I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I have never stopped loving you. Never stopped wanting to be the best I could be for you." That was so deep a truth it hurt to tear it from himself, to give it voice. He wanted to be a better man not for himself, but for the girl who'd stolen his heart from the first time he'd seen her squirming at her mother's side, seen her tiny little floppy ears, and had realized, he was a father. "I cannot know what life will hold in store but I will never regret you! Will never regret chosing you!"

He sought her gaze again, to find those eyes that were just like his, his gaze full of all of his love, all of his desire to protect, and hold, and help her. The emotion was so powerful it made his eyes water, though he did not fight it the tears did not break free yet. "You saved me."

"Speech!"

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When she'd begun to pour forth the troubled contents of her heart, Satira hadn't known how her father would take it. Would he be angry with her? Would he be offended or decide to cut his losses here and now? Every word the young girl spoke broke her heart a little bit more, like tapping on a cracked window with a hammer, but it was a necessary evil for the sake of her father's happiness. She loved Mojito so, and she didn't want him being strung along after her if he could be happier elsewhere. Sacrifice was nothing new to little Tira, who had given up so much of what she'd known in the past year of her life. What Satira hadn't been expecting though was for her hybrid sire to rise to his paws and immediately scoop her up into a tight embrace, quite literally pulling her across the border in his sudden act of paternal love. Tira blinked wide blue eyes in surprise, but very quickly melted into her father's embrace, pale eyes squeezing shut while she buried her face in his fluffy chest and let his familiar presence comfort her aching heart.

Mojito spoke, declaring that she was the best thing to ever happen to him and that he would never stop loving her or wanting the best for her. Satira's throat felt tight with the emotion she was trying her damnedest to hold back, wishing so much that she could be like her mother and just repress things into oblivion, but she was far too much like her dad in that regard. Like Mojito, she wore her heart on her sleeve. The little wolf-dog felt the moisture building up behind her pallid eyelids, and when her father finally drew back enough for her to open those big blue eyes, the tears fell freely from them, cutting through the fur on her cheeks to fall to her paws. Mojito's eyes were misting up too, but he was holding it together better than she was. Satira didn't want much—just for her family to be happy. Thinking that Mojito hadn't wanted to be around her hurt, but it hurt her more thinking that she was the one holding him back. Tira was gradually beginning to see how silly she was for thinking such things.

Satira's mouth pulled into a tight line while she sniffled back a sob, caught between the worry of letting herself grow hopeful that maybe her father wouldn't run off again and the urgent need to embrace him back and keep pretending like everything was fine. Eventually she gave in to the latter, and Tira went to throw her forelegs around her sire's sides to pull herself back into him with a sob that shook her whole body and made her ears bounce. "I love you, Dad," she spoke between shuddering breaths, burying her face into his fluff as if she were no bigger than a potato still. "I just wanted everything to be good again. I want you and Mom to be happy and I don't know how to make that happen. I... I don't know what to do anymore. I feel so lost and confused and I dunno how to fix things when everything's broken."

"Satira"