Redhawk Caldera It doesn't match your face

Weejay hadn't meant to hurt her father, but what good did that thought do to stave off the guilt? It overcame her like a wave, crashing heavily onto her shoulders and trickling coldly down her back. Into her stomach.

She grimaced, having seen the hurt register visibly on her father's face, and the subsequent silence. It spilled out between them -- unusually unpleasant. She had always felt comfortable in his presence and hadn't need words to fill the room, but now Weejay felt as if she was drowning. She hadn't meant to inspire such a feeling of fear and anxiety. Maybe she was wise in some ways, but in many ways Weejay was still young enough to be stupid. Sometimes, the foresight wasn't there.

"You won't know until that time comes." Weejay tried to shrug it off with platitudes. "You'll be okay. Maybe I'm wrong and it'll never work out like that." Weej tried to aim a nuzzle towards her father's cheeks, overwhelmed by the anxiety which flitted just under Eljay's expression.