That's ... sort of an odd question, I think. I mean, I've never thought of it before. My dad ... well, he was alright, I guess. I didn't really notice him a lot, the first few years of my life. He was just this tall frowning figure hovering in the background, who sometimes smiled at me when I did something strange in the right way. *grin* I remember loving those moments. He was a hydromancer, I think. He used to make the water in the little pond down the end of the garden into strange shapes and creatures that my siblings and I would chase and be chased by. It was fun.
I know he sold me into an apprenticeship when I was seven. But that happens to more or less everyone, unless you come from a rich family. And, okay, so the master he sold me to was a bit of a bastard, with a bit of a temper. But, see, he was also a glassworker. Mineral affinity alchemist. And I was a weird little kid, and maybe it came from my dad's water sculptures and my own strong affinity for minerals, but I fell head over heels in love with glass. I've never gotten over it. I can hear glass singing miles away, can feel her chimes in my sleep. I love glass. And so I did flourish in that apprenticeship, and it opened the way for everything I'd later become.
So. Daddy issues. I don't think I have any, as such. Except that I miss him, sometimes. When I'm near the water. When I hear kids splashing. It's faint, just a tingle of memory and regret.
Maybe I'll go look him up, some day. Fix that.