Dagmar had been lost in her thoughts and hadn't even heard the door opening. But she'd definitely heard the crash of ice and the ensuing noise that followed. She was standing just far enough away that the ice didn't reach her, but a bag did land somewhere near her feet. "Good morning, Satu," Dagmar said in reply to Satu's little shout. It wasn't like she'd been standing yards away, there wasn't any need to shout like that. If anyone in the house was still sleeping then they wouldn't be after that. Or they'd stuff their pillow into their ears, roll over and go back to sleep because screams weren't really an uncommon thing. It was amazing what the subconscious could adapt to when exposed to it for long enough. Dagmar doubted that the sight of blood would ever be able to bother her, for example.
Opening the bag, Dagmar was surprised to find a little jewelry box inside. She let it slide out into her hand and toyed with it, studying the design before she held it up between her fingers and arched a brow at her little sister, ignoring the ice shards on her clothes, in her hair and scattered all over. The little wall had served its purpose after all and that was what mattered. What else mattered was why Satu had something like this. She couldn't think that it was going to do anything to make their mother feel better. Shiny little baubles didn't work to fix saying things like Satu had. Dagmar wouldn't forgive her, that was for sure. She might feel a twinge of guilt over it later if she stayed sober, but she wouldn't forgive her. "What's this? Mom's not going to forgive her just because you went out and spent your allowance on her, you know."