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Born: 17 September 1989
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OoC Member Name: Panda
Age: 27
Occupation: :} | Intuitions clerk
Joined: 31-January 13
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Last Seen: Jun 24 2017, 10:46 AM
Local Time: Jun 26 2017, 08:50 AM
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Edna Nödl


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Mar 8 2017, 12:58 AM

Edna Nödl & Nor de la Cruz & Elwood Nödl
( outfit )

thread warnings
| hallucinations | delusions | dissociation | blood | self harm | thoughts of suicide |
| abandonment | thoughts of death | implications of an eating disorder |

When Edna leaves Donald Weiser's house in the early hours of Thanksgiving morning, she doesn't go home. The sun is still slowly working it's way over the horizon, so that all she sees is dim, pale gold, the shadows it casts as it beats against the trees, and nothing else. It's still too early she knows without knowing the exact time, the buses aren't running yet.

She walks.

It's almost afternoon when she makes it to Cherry Street, lets herself in to Elwood's apartment with the hope that maybe all her instincts and fears were wrong, that maybe he'd only gone out drinking the night before, the way he seemed to do all the time lately, decided to sleep at his place because it was easier than making the trip back out to the backroads where their family home sat.

But he's not there, and his phone still goes straight to voicemail when she calls.

(He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.)

She manages to hold it together for awhile, takes a seat on his couch the way she always does when he's not home, like maybe going through the motions would be enough to have him walking through the front door at any moment, enough to force things to happen the same way they always do. She throws all her faith into routine and she trusts, hopes it's enough.

(It's not.)

Hours pass this way, silent and still with nothing but that voice, the one that's started to follow her everywhere.

He left you


Because why wouldn't he?

He's never coming back.
He's never coming back.
He's never coming back.
He's never coming back.
He's never coming back.

This time it's for real.

She's clenched her fists so tight, dug her long, ragged nails into her palms so deep that she's bleeding, but the pain barely even reaches her. It does nothing to soothe the feeling in her chest, the overwhelming fear that each beat of her heart might be enough to rip her whole body apart.

She waits for that kind of death, she waits for that relief.

When it doesn't come, she's moving again.

As many times as she's been in Elwood's apartment, she's never been in his bedroom, never had a reason to, but that night she curls up in his bed, tangles herself up tight in his sheets, breathes in the smell of smoke and cheap, plain soap that clings to the fabric.

She doesn't doze off, the voice doesn't allow her too, echoing in her ears whenever she drifts too close to sleep.

It's all your fault.

She remembers that night, the two of them in the diner, because of couse she does. She remembers him asking, she rememberings telling a lie so well that is was almost truth.

And she blames herself, because of course she does, believes the voice that follows her everywhere because maybe if she had been honest, maybe if she had told Elwood the truth--

I'm afraid

--maybe he would've stayed, maybe he would've realized how much she needed him to stay.

Something inside her breaks.

She's rolling out of his bed then after what feels like years of not moving, tearing his sheets off with her, punching and pulling at the seams of his pillows until they rip. She loses herself often, loses reality even more often, but never like this, not since--

It's been years, it's rare, these tantrums of hers, when everything she pushes down inside of herself finally bursts and the only thing that helps is destroying everything she can get her hands on.

Elwood's apartment is scarce, minimal, but nothing is safe. She finds his books, rips all the pages without even realizing what she's doing, empties every drawer onto the floor, throws every object that isn't too heavy to lift, pounds her fists against his walls,

she screams, but she can't even hear her own voice.

Even when every inch of the apartment matches the chaos she feels inside of herself, it still doesn't help. He's still gone, he's still not coming back, left behind all his pets, all his things, disappeared.

Anyone else would find it strange, consider it enough of a reason to assume that Elwood might return at some point, but Edna knows better, still hasn't forgotten, could never forget the last time this happened. Instead of taking it all in as evidence that he'd come back, it only makes her dig in even deeper, wonder what would be enough to make him leave all of this behind so unexpectedly.

You know who did this.

You know.

She finds Nor's apartment easy, because she pays attention, because she's heard those rumors of Elwood coming and going, because she's bothered to look into it beyond just that. She picks her way inside, and of course the apartment is empty. Of course, of course.

You knew it would be.

But not long after that is the sound of a key in the lock, and Edna finds herself hoping again, a dangerous feeling, one she knows she shouldn't allow.

And for good reason.

It's not Nor, it's not Elwood.

A quiet voice, a whisper that Edna can't tell is real or not, asking her if she was there for Scoots, if Nor was the one that asked her to be there. Like all of Edna's other lies, her answer slides out easy, a slow and distracted yes that makes the voice disappear, makes the front door click shut again, leaves Edna alone.

It's a mistake, it's a bad idea, because that hope she dared to feel is crushed again, and it has her smashing plates, it leaves gashes on her hands as she breaks mirrors, windows so that the apartment goes cold with late November air that smells like snow.

The next time the lock on the front door clicks open, Edna doesn't hear it. She's tired, doesn't know how long it's been since she slept, how long it's been since she ate,

how long it's been since he left with her.

She's slumped on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the mess she's made, shards of broken dishes and glasses digging into her knees. She's crying, still crying, hadn't stopped, but she can't even feel the dampness on her cheeks, the sting of her eyes.

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone


This time it's for real.
Feb 6 2017, 02:43 PM

Donald Weiser & Edna Nödl
( outfit )

thread warnings
| hallucinations | delusions | dissociation |

On the day of November 23rd, the day before Thanksgiving, Elwood is already gone when Edna wakes up.

She feels his cats brushing against her ankles as she goes about her day, hears the jingle of Critter's collar always a few steps behind her when she goes outside to feed the goats. Elwood would come back for them, she thinks, knowing how he feels about his pets.

But morning turns to afternoon, afternoon turns to evening turns to midnight and beyond and the sound of his truck pulling back into the driveway never comes, starts to fill Edna with a dread she hasn't felt in awhile.

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, she hears a voice whisper over her shoulder. His phone goes straight to voicemail when she calls.

(He left you


Because why wouldn't he?

It's the same words over and over, so loud that it distracts Edna from the world around her, so that it's the middle of the night and she's rocking back and forth on the front steps of their house, her body shivering against the cold she doesn't feel. Inside, her parents and Opa are already sleeping, and if they were worried at all it wasn't in a way that Edna could sense.

She couldn't go to them with this, couldn't let her family see this weakness from her, the way her fears could swallow her whole when she was left alone with them for too long.

She's shuffling blindly down the gravel road leading away from her house then, further down the way to another house she knows almost as well as her own, though she doesn't realize that's where her legs are carrying her until she's at the front door.

This time it's locked.

It's a problem that's easily fixed. Edna could go back home, find that skinny, sharp tool she liked to carry with her sometimes for cases like this.

But she doesn't realize how late it is and the locked door comes as something unexpected, knocks the wind out of her lungs and rattles something like panic loose in her. With Elwood gone, with her parents sleeping, with Donald Weiser's door locked, it feels like Edna's the only person left in the universe, or perhaps the only one not in the universe, interacting with some mirrored reality from an angle that no one else could reach, no one else could find her.

She feels lost.

She feels desperate, feels like she's ripping apart at the seams.

She knocks on the door, hard and frantic, doesn't stop even when her knuckles vibrate with pain, red and swollen and close to splitting.

Doesn't stop until he answers.
Jan 20 2017, 05:47 PM

Edna Nödl & Scholastica Řezník

thread warnings
| dissociation | unreality/magical thinking | religious themes |

Edna's lies are starting to unravel.

She pretends not to notice.

He knows, he knows, he knows, but he's the only one. Her parents still see her in her work clothes, still see her leaving for hours every day and so they assume to know where she's heading. She doesn't correct them, doesn't set the record straight,

admits nothing.

It's getting colder, it's too cold, but Edna barely feels it, her body shivering of it's own accord inside her coat, her throat sore and her nose running with sickness that comes from spending so much of her time in the grey and bare woods behind the hospital,

pretending she still belongs there,

pretending everything is still fine.

It has to be, she needs it to be.

Because it's the only thing keeping her tied to Earth.

It's easier to pretend here, where no one has any idea where she is, where no one bothers her, where no one knows and no one contradicts the thoughts in her head.

She sits on the ground here, her back against a tree, raised roots digging into her legs, the cold ground stealing more of her body heat. The world still moves around her, sounds that blur together until it's one continuous noise in her head,

so that she can't pick out the sound of footsteps crunching on dead leaves, dry twigs

so that she doesn't even realize she's not alone anymore.
Oct 4 2016, 01:53 PM
Edna Nödl & Freida McIntosh

thread warnings
| dissociation | delusions/magical thinking | hallucinations |

To someone just stepping through the door, Intuitions might seem deserted at first glance. The sign in the window was turned to Open, the shop was unlocked, lit incense burned in a corner, but there wasn't a soul in sight.

Madame Lydia was in the back, behind layers of heavy, crushed velvet curtains meant to separate the shop from the cramped room attached where she performed her readings. Edna was present too, meant to be watching the front, bent down and carefully stocking shelves in a corner farthest from the door. She stops in her work, freezes when she hears the bell chime.

She stays crouching, listening to footsteps creaking on the hardwood floors that were warped and worn from the humidity inside the shop. They get closer, just an aisle away when Edna finally moves.

She knew the shop well, could remember every shelf, every floorboard so that she didn't even need vision to navigate them. She knew exactly how to move so that her own movement wouldn't give her away; sliding her feet across the floor rather than picking them up with each step, never putting too much weight on one or the other. She moved away from the sound, circled around before coming closer again.

Edna had always been good at creeping up on people, on going unnoticed until she wanted to be seen, like a ghost that could phase in and out of the physical realm at will. She couldn't see exactly how far away the person was, couldn't see much of anything anymore, but her ears tell her she's close enough when she finally speaks, makes her presence known.

"Hello," she whispers.
Sep 29 2016, 04:05 PM

Edna Nödl & Elwood Nödl

thread warnings
| hallucinations | delusions/magical thinking | dissociation | eating disorders |

It was September 29th, five in the morning when Edna woke up and all she saw were blurs of faded colors and blackness at the edges. No shapes, no lines, no depth. Only color.

She didn't go to work that day.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

The calls come on her phone and she lets them pass by unanswered because it's the only thing she can control. She knows what will happen if she goes in, that either she'd have to tell them or they'd figure it out. The outcome would be the same. She already knows that future.

So she chooses a different one.

She still gets up every day, still puts on her scrubs, still takes the same bus into town that she always does. Her parents see her coming and going and think nothing's changed, and as long as everyone else believes it then Edna can still feel like it's true. She believes it too.

There's a stretch of woods behind the hospital, and after September 29th, Edna spends a lot of her time there, where the space between two trees is just a hallway of the morgue, the sound of birds become the voices of co-workers so that when Elwood calls and Edna says I'm at work, it doesn't even seem like a lie.

She's waiting out in front of the hospital like she always does on days when he picks her up, trying to stop the shivering that comes from spending hours outside in the autumn chill. She cranks the heat up as high as it will go when she climbs into his truck, the only perceivable difference in all of this.

Everything else is exactly the same.

Nothing's changed.
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