Edna Nödl doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: 17 September 1989
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OoC Member Name: Panda
Occupation: :} | Intuitions clerk
Joined: 31-January 13
Last Seen: Today at 06:59 am
Local Time: May 22 2018, 09:32 PM
1,003 posts (0.5 per day)
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Mar 7 2018, 09:02 PM
SLOWLY CORRUPTING YOU
I WONDER WHAT THE CHANCE IS YOU WANT IT TOEdna Nödl & Luca Nodlthread warnings
| they're second cousins being weirdly close ok just look away |
Edna doesn't want to go back to the coffee shop, Luca discovers the next day he meets her at Intuitions. It's too loud, it's too small for too many people. She lies and says she just hates the smell.
They spend that day at the library instead, finding a couple of empty chairs off in some corner behind rows of shelves where Luca still leans in close when he reads even though it's quiet enough for Edna to hear.
She seems to like it better, so that's where they go the next day also.
But by their fourth afternoon in that same corner, it's clear that even if it is better than the coffee shop, Edna still doesn't like
it. Chapters take longer for Luca to finish when every few minutes she's reaching out to grip his arm or spread her hand out over the page because she could hear someone browsing the shelves nearby. She sits a little more tense every time, to the point where even Luca taking his time to describe the details of the shelves, the books, the dullness of the carpet underneath such bright lighting isn't enough to make her shoulders relax.
They're not even there for thirty minutes before she can pick up on the annoyed quality of his voice when he asks if she'd rather leave, except when they're back out on the sidewalk and trying to figure it out they realize there's not anywhere else they can
go. It was still too cold to sit outside for very long, and Edna knew her mother wouldn't like it if she invited Luca back to the house. There were other shops, other places in town where they'd be able to sit down and read, but anywhere else would be louder, busier, worse than the library.
Just when Luca's about to say fuck it
, Edna stands up straighter with the air of an idea. "I know where we can go," she says as she leads him by the hand to the bus stop.
They end up out in front of a small locksmith's shop on Cherry Street, which seems like a strange enough place to end up even before Edna turns to Luca and tells him to wait outside, the disappears before he can get any kind of explanation out of her.
He's left waiting for several minutes, but when Edna returns she's clutching a single key. She doesn't tell him what it's for.
He finds out anyway, when two blocks from the locksmith's she steers him onto a side street, then keeps walking until they hit nothing but old rowhouses on either side of them. She makes Luca read out the address of each one as they pass, until he finally settles on the right number. "That's it," she tells him. The key works.
The inside of the house is dark, blinds pulled shut behind blackout curtains. The air smells like decades of cigarette smoke and old wood. Edna doesn't think to reach for the light switch before she moves farther into the house.
"I told my uncle I'd bring the key back before he closed up the shop."
Feb 26 2018, 10:25 AM
YOU SAID "PLEASE DON'T EVER CHANGE"
BUT YOU DON'T LIKE ME THE WAY I AMEdna Nödl (x) & Luca Nodlthread warnings
| / |
It had been almost a week since Edna had noticed Luca's absence, though it was never acknowledged. Her mother seems more pleased than usual in the couple of days following, that type of satisfaction that comes when people she doesn't like get what they deserved, but at no point during their breakfasts or drives into town does she explain what has her in such a good mood. Edna doesn't have to guess. When she finally works up the nerve to check Elwood's old room, it's empty.
And that's that, isn't it? She'd always known Luca wasn't staying in town for good, and after the way they'd left things the last time they were together, Edna's sure it's for the best. She hates him more than just sometimes now, the way he makes her thoughts cloudy and soft around the edges whenever her guard slips just a little, the way he makes her body feel more solid when he touches her.
She could learn to be as satisfied as her mother, she thinks, if she never saw Luca Nodl again for the rest of her life.
But the universe has other plans.
Edna goes to work with her mother more days than not now, less because she wants to and more because it's an imitation of fine
; one of several acts meant to convince her family and the rest of the world that she was doing better, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. What happened in the fall was an isolated incident, something that could eventually be lived down if she never messed up from here on out.
She rarely ever lasts a full day, though. Business in the shop was always slowest in the winter without a stream of curious tourists, and in the long gaps between customers Edna grows increasingly uncomfortable with her mother's presence, until she finds herself dreading what feels like the inevitable moment when Lydia finally asks: what's wrong with you
She's always waiting for someone to ask, terrified because she doesn't have an answer. Maybe it's that there's too many answers, maybe it's that everything feels wrong
lately, if she dwells on it too long.
Most days, she's on the bus back home by mid-afternoon.
This is how the universe betrays her.
It's a warmer than it has been lately, but still cold. Freezing rain takes the place of snow, sharp little taps against the windows of the bus, tiny balls of ice that melt in Edna's hair. She sits closer to the back, ducking her head down whenever the bus stops to let someone else on. The roads are slick, they're crawling.
Three stops from where Edna gets on, the bus lingers longer than it should. Someone's up at the front, arguing with the driver. Ten cents short of a full fare, but it's a mess outside, and c'mon, it's only ten cents.
Edna knows the voice, feels it in a chill through her whole body as it knocks her world sideways. But he's gone
, he left. She was supposed to never see him again.
In the end, he doesn't get off the bus, and the driver decides ten cents isn't worth the trouble of delaying her route any more than it had been already. There's the squeak of wet boots on the rubberized walkway down the aisles of seats, the rustle of fabric and a sigh of exhaustion as Luca chooses a seat. Edna wonders if another ten years have passed without her noticing. She wonders if she's imagining it, if she's slipped from one reality to another where this was possible.
She doesn't realize she's staring hard at where the sounds had stopped.
Feb 13 2018, 09:10 PM
WHEN I SNEAK TO YOUR BED
TO POUR SALT IN YOUR WOUNDSEdna Nödl (x) & Luca Nodlthread warnings
| / |
Edna stops by for breakfast more often. Lydia pretends not to notice, as if any display of concern or relief might be enough to scare her back off to wherever it was she came from. At least she shows up, and that's good enough to not say anything that might ruin it.
More often than not over the past two weeks, Luca comes down for coffee around the same time, conveniently just as Lydia is leaving for work, so that they never have to exchange more than a grunt of acknowledgment.
Today, Lydia has already left, Edna's finished her bowl of plain oatmeal, and still Luca hasn't made his way down the stairs.
Not that he was the reason Edna was stopping by more often anyway.
But still, it's something that she'd started to expect at this point, enough that she sits and waits at the kitchen table longer than she should, like he'd realize that he missed his cue and would come groggily shuffling in at any moment to correct it.
When he doesn't, so goes to him instead.
The room is still dark in the dim early morning light that seeps in through cracks in the curtains, not that Edna notices, not that it matters. Memory and touch are all she needs to find her way to the bed. She doesn't have to see him to hear slow, deep breaths and know that he's still asleep.
She sits down, twisted to face him, on the edge of the bed. He stirs slightly under the slight shift of weight on the mattress, then settles down again, the soft part of his side resting against her hip. Edna holds her breath and waits.
But Luca doesn't wake up, her lungs start working again. She's brought the book she'd bought yesterday with her, resting it heavy in her lap, where she holds it so tightly that the edges of the cover wear grooves into her palms.
For awhile, it looks as if that's how it'll be until Luca finally decides to open his eyes.
Edna doesn't like to wish, because you can't miss something if you never think about it, but with nothing else to do but listen to his breathing, she accidentally wishes here that she could see what that looked like on his face, if he frowned in his sleep or left his face relaxed, mouth slightly open.
She wishes so hard that she makes it come true, in it's own way, when she pries one stiff hand from her book, reaching out until her fingertips graze his forehead.
Jan 22 2018, 10:14 PM
YOU AIN'T NO BROTHER, YOU AIN'T NO DISCIPLE
YOU AIN'T NO FRIENDEdna & Elwood Nödlthread warnings
| mental illness | hospitalization mention | codependency |
The truth is, she had been intentionally avoiding him ever since he dropped her off halfway between Donald Weiser's house and theirs. Even more so since the hospital.
It shouldn't make sense. She knew
knew, there was nothing left to hide there
but she doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want to imagine the lines of his face when she picks up on the judgement in his voice that she knows will be there, no matter what he says.
She barely goes anywhere these days, but she especially tries to stay away from the places she thinks he'd be.
still, it was only a matter of time.
Her parents don't see her that often, and she keeps it so that her presence is barely noticed. She sleeps just down the street, but they never know where she comes from when she slips into the house, upstairs to her room and back out again like a draft from an open window. Her father had started taking care of her goats, but sometimes he'd go out and find the work already done, the only sign she still existed at all to them.
They're worried, but like she does with him, she steers clear of their voices.
It was only matter of time.
It's early, the air sharp and the grass crisp with frost when Edna comes to work by memory rather than sight, shoveling out the small barn where the goats slept, laying out fresh hay. It's more work than she should be doing, weak muscles trembling and her head swimming with the effort. She moves slow.
If she had moved faster, if she had come sooner or waited until later or not come at all, maybe she could have avoided him indefinitely.
But instead she stands there frozen, gripping her shovel so tightly that her knuckles turn white inside of her gloves as she hears the hum of an engine, the crunch of gravel as a truck pulled into the driveway.Elwood.
Oct 16 2017, 07:06 PM
NOW I'M DROWNING IN THE FLOOD I MADEEdna Nödl & Scholastica Řezníkthread warnings
| mental/physical illness | involuntary hospitalization | self-harm |
She enters the hospital through the ambulance bay of the emergency room, eyelids fluttering, awake but unaware. She'd been sitting at the bus stop for awhile, the old man that had called it in explained to paramedics. Fell over almost as soon as she'd stood up, passed right out.
And it's no wonder. She's dangerously light when they lift her up to move her from the stretcher to a hospital bed, her bones so sharp they can be felt through her layers of clothes and skin. When they hook her up to monitors, her blood pressure is too low, her pulse is weak, she's dehydrated and they start an IV drip. Adult female, no ID on her, but she's lived her whole life in this small town, worked for years at this same hospital. That's Edna Nodl,
one of the nurses confirms early on, almost as soon as she's wheeled in.
They don't find any drugs in her system to suggest an overdose or explain strange behavior, nothing in her blood work or other tests that pointed to an underlying illness as a cause, but there's angry claw marks on her arms, self-inflicted and healing poorly on the verge of infection, and when she starts to come into herself a few hours later she's thrashing in her bed, pulling frantically at tubes and cords, lashing out at anyone that tries to touch her until they have no choice but to sedate her.
She enters the hospital on the first floor, but she's uncooperative, an immediate danger to herself and others, and once they're sure her vitals are stable enough she's moved to the behavioral health unit three floors up. She'd stay there overnight, at the very least, with no psychiatrist on duty to evaluate her until the following morning. In the meantime, they put her in a single room, indicate high risk on her chart so that someone has to stay sitting close by, keeping watch.
At first, she's not much trouble, still under the influence of the medication they'd given her downstairs and in and out of something resembling dreamless sleep.
When she wakes up, the lights in the room are too dim for her poor eyesight to make sense of anything, the only hints as to where she is given in the firmness of the bed and the roughness of the sheets, the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant, the feel of the IV they had to reinsert in the crook of her elbow, taped down more securely this time.
Her head still cloudy, her bones too heavy and her fingers clumsy with numbness and distance, she gingerly traces the tube and starts to pick at the edges of the tape keeping it against her skin.
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