[ In a lot of ways, this feels cruel. That gift bag sitting there innocuously with its gifter nowhere to be seen is a reality too far. Dokja's act is undeniably one of kindness, and that too summons a well of feeling in her: that it's more than she deserves, that it's painfully sweet and ordinary of him.
She's never put much stock in her birthday. For a long time, it was a countdown to her inevitable death, and it drowned her in attention she desperately wished to avoid. Dokja's version of a birthday party is a lonely and pathetic affair in comparison, the number of candles on the cake not even close to correct, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Regardless, she begins to cry. She's aware that it's not a very good response to an act intended to make her happy, so she tries to be quiet about it, but the fact sticks out that Eustace isn't here, Add isn't here, the latter having been with her for every birthday twelve years past. It feels wrong to celebrate anything with them gone.
She shakes her head, wipes at her eyes, and forges on valiantly. If she acts like she isn't crying, then maybe they can both pretend it isn't happening and she's just overcome with gratitude. And a small part of her is; this is far more than she would ever ask or expect of Dokja.
She sniffs. ]
I'm not five, Mr. Dokja...
[ She means for it to be a lighthearted comment, but the effect might be lost in light of the waterworks. ]
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Date: 2023-07-01 04:04 am (UTC)She's never put much stock in her birthday. For a long time, it was a countdown to her inevitable death, and it drowned her in attention she desperately wished to avoid. Dokja's version of a birthday party is a lonely and pathetic affair in comparison, the number of candles on the cake not even close to correct, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Regardless, she begins to cry. She's aware that it's not a very good response to an act intended to make her happy, so she tries to be quiet about it, but the fact sticks out that Eustace isn't here, Add isn't here, the latter having been with her for every birthday twelve years past. It feels wrong to celebrate anything with them gone.
She shakes her head, wipes at her eyes, and forges on valiantly. If she acts like she isn't crying, then maybe they can both pretend it isn't happening and she's just overcome with gratitude. And a small part of her is; this is far more than she would ever ask or expect of Dokja.
She sniffs. ]
I'm not five, Mr. Dokja...
[ She means for it to be a lighthearted comment, but the effect might be lost in light of the waterworks. ]