It's not always easy, being a widower and raising two children all alone. Especially when your daughter is a warrior-spirit who wants to follow in her mothers foot steps.
Hobin Luckyfeller shares a personal correspondence between himself and his famous, blade-wielding daughter.
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I did get your note. Clever--leaving it between the folds of my reading material in the outhouse. Is that a hint that I spend too much time on the throne? Well, at least you thought about me.
I wish you hadn’t left so angry. The time between our visits are so long, my heart aches—not being able to apologize face to face. I know you disapprove of my methods, but you didn’t have to break Claudio’s nose.
I know, I know--I should have asked. I get it and I promise, Alhannah, I will never interfere in your personal life again.
Claudio thought you were looking forward to the blind date...so don’t be too mad with the boy--he was just as much of a victim as you were. Of course, I thought he’d be more of a man...not scream and curl up in a ball like that.
Anyway, his nose was reset and we did find his front tooth. It was in the planter with the fern.
Can you really blame me? Consider my point of view here, sweetheart. I’m not going to be around forever! I’ve mourned the loss of your mother and buried your baby brother with my own hands...and my two oldest have both decided to live with every other race but their own.
I’ll never get grandchildren at this rate.
...and for crying out loud, young lady...did you really have to make fun of the poor man’s name? Truly Alhannah, that was completely uncalled for--even for you. He…can’t help having such a…pathetic name. Claudio, ok, it sounds stupid, but he didn’t pick it—it’s his parents fault. I only chose him because I thought it sounded more rugged than the boy down the hall. He’s the one I actually wanted to ask anyway, but the way you reacted, I’m glad he wasn’t home—you might have killed someone named Norwood.
The truth is, I was hopeful that if the right guy came along, you’d have a change of heart. Struggling with my rheumatism, I needed a pick me up. I dwell on this a lot lately—thinking about your mom. You remind me of her the older you get. Heh, the feistier you get. It’s another reason why I miss you horribly all the time, my sweet, little girl.
Even when you’re mad.
Is it so wrong that your father wishes more for you—than a life of blood and guts? That I want to see you shake off that stress you clutch so closely to your chest??
Yes, you tell me you’re fine. Yes, you tell me that being a gnome-warrior is what you always wanted. To be like mom, you say. Don’t mistake this for me having regret in allowing you to train with Dax…or for deciding to follow in your mother’s footsteps. I don’t regret it, Alhannah. But even your mother, in all her prowess in battle, thought about having a family.
You’ve made some tough stands and we disagree in some areas of life, but Tgii curse me if I don’t have a right to at least speak my mind! It’s time we talk this out and put it behind us once and for all. These are things I feel are important for you to know, and if I don’t get them out, Alhannah…I’m going to feel I've failed you. This will more than likely make you mad at me—but six months is plenty of time for you to calm down and get over it. So…here goes nothing.
You’ve have always been strong willed, and I truly don't think that’s a bad thing.
What I can’t understand is, why are you taking so many risks? Even for you, these actions are extreme.
Yes, you are a bodyguard. Yes, much like your mother, you are a talented mercenary and amazing fighter. I know that you are tough, but something is bothering you. When you first brought up your desire to enter the Trench Wars, I was shocked…but I supported you.
Even competition makes my stomach turn in knots. It's not the same as strapping blades to your hips, or swinging from the forearm of a foe to kick him in the teeth. This is machine combat, bullets, lasers, plasma and using S.L.A.G.’s for something other than their intended purpose. For more than a year I’ve kept quiet, while you strapped yourself into cockpits and engaged in these extreme battles or coin! This is insane, child…even if it is televised on half a billion screens throughout the city.
Did I complain? No. Did I ever try and stop you? No, I did not. You’re old enough to make your own decisions and live your own life. But it always bothered me. Something just wasn’t right about…any of it. It ate at my gut—and you know how I follow my feelings. I trust my feelings. Something bothered me, sweetheart, because, I believe, something was bothering you…and still is.
Of course you don’t want to talk about it—you NEVER want to talk about it, but you can’t keep problems buried inside forever. It’ll eat you up from the inside.
I had an opportunity to talk with your brother recently. He's fine, doing well (as well as he can, anyway) and he asked about you. Wanted to know how you were and if you are getting along. I told him yes. He wants to start a family. Green, you baby brother actually wants to have a wife and little ones running around…thank goodness. I love that idea. Of course, I would love it even more if BOTH of you decided to start a family. As motivated as Green sounds, it's going to be a little hard to find a girl in an isolated community of humans. Unfortunately, that's the natural consequences of his choices and profession.
He did share some thoughts and feelings with me. It was a little strange, you know how he likes to keep everything wrapped tight and close to his chest. Mr. big secrets. But being isolated, being alone, has finally gotten to him.
We talked and he’s thinking about going back to Clockworks City. At least until he can trap him a proper wife. It made me think of you. Of your choices—but it wasn't until I got an invitation to Britney's wedding that it hit me. She's the last of your friends, at least that I know of, who wasn't married. You’re the last.
Is that what’s bothering you?
Looking back at the extreme chances you've taken over the past two years—the obsession with fighting in Trench Wars, getting banned from the Black Market for disemboweling a Vallen…it all points to dissatisfaction. At least that’s what it looks like. Your friends are married now. All your close friends, even Sharon and Tapp, are married now. They’ve come a long way from recon grunts. Tapp’s about have her first child, I’m told—a little boy, I believe.
Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you come to me and let it all out? Did you think I wouldn't understand, what, because I'm old? Did you think that there would be something wrong with you, or that you’d be less tough…because you want what most young ladies want at your age? That you might want what your friends have?
Come on, Alhannah.
A lot of things changed when your mother died. You were close and mom adored every minute she got to spend with you. I know that you struggled when we lost her. We both had an identity crisis, I think. Those darker years, when I was trying to get a grip on life, on reality,…desperately trying not to give up or give in…I wasn't there for you. There are so many things on that sorry-list, I don’t know where to start. I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for any pain you may be feeling.