Redhawk Caldera It doesn't match your face

Weejay beamed under the compliment; she didn't often think herself wise, but if her father did then it must have a kernel of truth to it. She just knew that overthinking was just as bad as not thinking at all - both clouded the brain to the point one's judgment could be compromised.

She was happy for her father and wanted him to enjoy the now - she knew someday Maia might leave and that happiness might not last forever, but happiness was like a small-burning candle: eventually, it would always be snuffed out.. But for the time it was alive, it cast a beautiful glow on everything that was what you held close to you, when you were cold or feeling alone.

She knew also, that her father was far happier here than he'd been at their last home. Weejay had no ties to these halls, but she often appreciated the feeling of great legacy that lingered along the stone-walls of their den. Her father had been raised here. His family had lived, loved, laughed and cried in these rooms. That kind of energy was rarely forgotten.

"We can't change what the future holds." Weejay reminded her father softly. "Maia will stay, or she won't. When that moment comes you can think. I know it is special here.. but you may have to decide which is more special: living at home, or spending your life with Maia."