" Syalla, " its a soft, gentle call. the knowledge that there were too many birthdays that had passed that hayato wasn't there for. however, this didn't derive from the fact she was STILL his daughter — for that he passed her a bracelet, marked with a small yet charming gem. " I apologize that I wasn't there for a lot of your birthdays ... here. This is a bracelet especially from the Wind Tribe — that I hope we return to. I want everyone to see my beautiful daughter, after all. Happy Birthday. "
The reaction was subdued, a raised head upon the soft calling of her name. A greeting that was years in the making, and one that Syalla herself was looking forward to on this day. It may not seem like it was much, but there was a small curl to her lips that resembled a small smile. Recognition. And perhaps an inner excitement that she wouldn’t admit to just yet.
“Father.”
There were far too many to count… how many birthdays she has spent alone without her father there to celebrate with her. The days that he had were in times when she was still small, bright-eyed as a little girl eagerly waits for him to return to her. Eventually those long days blend together in a continuous string on monotony, and she is left to live out her days in solitude.
But now, as she turns to face her father, she is met with a gift; A bracelet that was apparently from his tribe. The Wind Tribe… a place that she knew by logic that she belonged to, but as she traced the shape of the small gem with her finger, nothing could feel more foreign to her.( The Deeprealms, polarizing as it was, were her roots. That hasn’t changed… even though she feels like it should. ) But at the same time, having a physical gift from the tribe that he held so dear, it makes the idea of the Wind Tribe more concrete in her mind.
Whatever the case may be, she’d be more than happy to spend the time there with her father. For his sake alone. And no matter how much time passes between them, she’ll just be content to spend time with him here.
“…thank you, Father. Really.”
