Tired Doll

a Doll with a voice that is only half their own. they speak confidently, comfortably, though they often rush and slur—an artifact of their cultural upbringing, combined with a dwindling pool of energy to put into speech. they can embody eloquence and resplendency, though they'd just as soon settle for the comfort of a simple bogan lexicon, replete with colourful swearing.¹

but it used to sing! sometimes it still does, in the quiet, on its own, and it really does enjoy it, but... its voice never quite did the things it wanted to, despite training and effort and practice. it's never been sure how to produce some of the sounds it's always wanted to, though it does some things others have wanted to emulate. lately, though, it has songs deep in its... in what would pass for its soul, songs it yearns to get out, that it just cannot physically produce. whether it's the pitch range, or the timbre, or the specific techniques required, the Doll just... can't do it. as time goes on, the Doll experiences this more and more, and each time it happens it feels that disconnect between itself and its voice grow wider.

but at least it's quite happy with the way it talks, usually. that's a big accomplishment.

¹ farkin' oath