Welcome to Will to Live, a RP set in the fictional town of Monroeville, Maine. Orginally a small fishing village turned college town turned tourist trap, long-time locals are now outnumbered by newcomers in their ever-expanding hometown. Plots are primarily member-driven, with a wide range of interesting and diverse characters to interact with. Feel free to jump right in; fresh perspectives and ideas are always welcome.

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 when the city goes silent, the ringing in my ears gets violent, don/edna
Edna Nödl
 Posted: Feb 6 2017, 02:43 PM
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FIGHT OFF THE LIGHT TONIGHT
AND JUST STAY WITH ME

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

again.

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.

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: Mar 9 2017, 02:42 PM
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paranoia, sleep paralysis, abduction



It isn't until after one in the morning that Don finally falls asleep.

Everything in his body aches, his thoughts are troubling, and even with Pascal curled up next to him, the world feels like it's falling in on him.

This trapping season has been a rough one. Some of his best crew members left for deep-sea red crab boats, but those are in federal waters and not something Don has the physical capabilities to keep up with. It's sad to see his friends go. It's made his job harder, at least until the new guys finish training, and as a result of distracted carelessness he's had to take some time off for his back.

It's not ideal.

It's too much time in his own head for dangerous thoughts to swirl around.

Most of this time off ends up being spent cooped up in his house, only ever leaving for short bathroom-walks for Pascal. He's been closing and locking his windows (that the previous month he installed anti-shatter film onto), and took the time to repair his front door to properly lock as well. It doesn't make him feel any more safe, but it's something. An extra step that'll make it a little harder for them to get to him.

---

It's even later when sudden, frantic, violent pounding resounds loudly through Don's home. Startled, Pascal leaps from the bed and his barks join in as he disappears down the hall.

Don can't move.

He's awake and fully alert, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, but he can't move. He can't move and it makes him start to panic because he knows what this means. He knows they're here for him again after all these years.

I'm not ready.
I don't want this.
Please, not now.


The pounding won't stop but Pascal has, running back into the room to nuzzle and lick Don's face while he whines.

The pounding won't stop but Don feels like he's starting to come back into his body.

The pounding won't stop.

Why won't it stop?

He manages to pull himself from bed onto weak legs, plodding into the front room and towards the front door with caution. He nears one of the front windows, peeking out, and his heart sinks.

Edna. It's Edna.

And without a second though he's scrambling to unlock the front door, swinging it open and prepared to catch her just in case she lost her balance. A million questions race through his mind, but he knows he just needs to get her inside and safe. He knows he needs to try to stay calm and get answers, make sure she's okay, but it's like every signal in his body is going off at once and oh god, it's just so much.

This post has been edited by Donald Weiser: Mar 9 2017, 04:45 PM

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: Mar 23 2017, 03:02 PM
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Edna's still banging on the door when it swings open, only stops when her knuckles hit nothing but air. She's staggering forward then, hands catching on to Don's forearms, squeezing tightly, too tight until his tangibility settles in her mind.

She's letting go then, pushing past him without a word and into the dark house like she lives there, like she doesn't need his permission to plant herself in the center of his living room, fingers stretching out and searching for the arm of the couch. Something to ground her, keep her steady.

"You sleep," she oozes out quietly, a question and its answer all in one, pulling knowledge from the stillness and shadows around her, the length of time it had taken him to answer.

It sounds like awe, it sounds like she doesn't even remember what sleep feels like.

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: Mar 23 2017, 07:43 PM
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Don doesn't expect Edna to have such a tight grip. So he's caught off guard by her nails digging into his skin, breathing in sharply through his teeth as Pascal yips down at their feet.

He almost doesn't let her slip away from him, worried she'll disappear into the dark, but the cold breeze from outside pulls his attention back to the door. Lunging forward to the open frame, he glances around his porch and front yard with wide eyes in expectation of... something else.

But nothing's there.

Is nothing there?

A moment later, after securely locking the door behind him, Don follows Pascal's barks and whines back to where Edna's settled herself in his living room.

"Ed..."

His voice is soft, paired with a tone of disbelief. She looks so unwell and it's doing nothing to calm the state of near-panic he's still in. Kneeling down beside her, he reaches out slightly, not sure if he should touch her

not realizing how bad his hands are shaking.

"Yeah, I was sleeping - Ed, what happened?"

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: Mar 24 2017, 09:51 PM
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But she can't tell him that, can't unpack that weakness with words alone.

She shouldn't need to, she knows, and that burns like guilt in her chest, makes her take her thoughts and twist them, break them at the edges, fold them over themselves and bear down until she can force them to fit neatly into her idea of reality, like pouring an entire ocean into a drinking glass without letting anyone see you spill any.

What happened?

The real answer is something she has no control over, and so it's dangerous, something to hold in, because saying it out loud makes it real, makes it something she can't change or take back.

She lies instead, pulling her face into a smile as she tilts her head towards Don's voice. She can't see him in the dark but she feels him there, breathing, existing somewhere near her, and her eyes stare blankly at where she thinks his face might be.

Pascal rests at her knees, whining and pressing his nose, wet and cold against her hands until she opens them up to him, lets him climb up into her lap. "I just wanted to stop by."

There's a cruel sort of amusement in the words, a satisfying joke in the knowledge she'd dragged him from sleep in the middle of the night, inconvenienced him, put that emotion in his voice

and he had let her in anyway

and she won't even tell him why.

"You fixed your door."

She wonders if she made him do that also, had that level of control over his actions.

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 03:09 PM
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Don’s worry only doubles over, edging towards panic again at the way she looks just past him. Rather, through him.

Is this really Edna?
    Or is this a trick?
      Oh god, did he let them in his house...?

But then his eyes travel down to Pascal settling down onto her lap, and he breaths out with a strange relief that it must be her. As friendly as Pascal is to most, he’s not like this with anyone else besides him and Ed.

“Ed, c’mon,” he nearly pleads, not wanting to play this damn game with her right now. “You scared the shit out of me - you okay? Your folks okay?”

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 05:15 PM
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Edna's smile goes tight at the edges, something dead and hollow now at the mention of her folks, her family, those thoughts and feelings she'd come here to avoid.

Briefly, she wonders if Don knows, if he could somehow see the things in her head. She can't imagine why he, why anyone would care if she was okay, if her family was okay.

He's looking for vulnerability, he's looking for a way to take away the power she felt she had over this relationship, because of course,

of course she'd be stupid to think she could lean on anyone, especially an outsider.

She feels it stinging behind her eyes, looks away from Don quick so that he can't see the effort it takes to hold tears back.

(It's strange, the way her body goes against her, makes her feel disconnected, out of place because she doesn't cry, that can't be her, that can't be a part of her that does that.)

Her voice sounds far away, her thin fingers working into Pascal's fur. "Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 05:41 PM
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"You were practically tryin' to beat down my door - it's the middle of the night."

Don finally lets his hand rest lightly against her bony back, partly to prove to himself she's real but also in attempt to make himself real to her too. Even if he's to believe nothing's happened, she's not well. She probably hasn't been for some time, but he's just not noticed with how preoccupied he's been with protecting himself lately.

There's a pang of guilt, for not being there for Ed just like he'd not been there for his daughters for a lot of their formative years, through the divorce too. He can't be there for Amanda now.

"Lets getcha up on the couch. C'mon," he continues with a small sigh, holding his other hand out so he can help her up.

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 07:05 PM
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"If you hadn't fixed your door, I wouldn't have made any noise," Edna points out, slings blame, makes it Don's own fault rather than a sign that there was something wrong with her.

His hand on her back is too much then, different from the way she usually pushes herself into people's personal space, a closeness that's nothing like the kind she usually allows.

It feels like pity.

It makes her curl away from him, pushing herself to her feet without his help,

because she can,

because that's not what she came here for,

though she has no other reason for being here, if not that.

She doesn't take a seat on the couch, intentionally stubborn against Don's kindness because she doesn't know what else to be. She hovers close to it though, fingers running along the back of the couch, rubbing rough against the fabric.

"What was it that scared you? The noise?"

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: May 5 2017, 09:48 PM
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Don expected Edna to pull away the moment he reached out to her, but her comment causes him to recoil his hand slightly at the same time. His stomach sinks and fills with guilt - like that time he forgot to pick up Mackenzie and Olivia from school as kids or when he didn't tell Amanda when he couldn't go to her first volleyball game (and the second and third and forth).

He grabs the arm of the couch and hoists himself up with a groan, the pain from his lower back really hitting him now. He swallows, mouth dry, and turns to look in Edna's direction. Pascal whines, looking between the two of them.

Her question feels like she knows.

Purposeful.

Resting his hand on his back, he stays silent at first, unable to bring himself to answer with full honesty, "Thought someone mighta been trying to break in."

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: May 16 2017, 09:02 PM
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His worry, his fears are something like comfort to Edna, that his reaction had been a direct result of her actions, her thoughts.

He makes himself weaker than her in her mind, makes her think she was right to come here,

that she could be safe here without lowering herself to that level, to the level of people who worry and stress about their lives, the possibility of awful things happening to them.

"You don't have anything I'd want to steal," she points out, a backwards attempt at reassurance. Even though she's lifted spoons of his to hide in her pocket, snuck home with books of his that she couldn't read but that smelled like his house all the same.

She wonders if he's noticed.

"I don't sleep," she admits then, the only thing that feels safe to admit. "Do you have tea?"

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: May 18 2017, 10:00 PM
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Don has never seen a benefit in trying to lie to Edna. He's private in general, not often willing to share anything more than a casual conversation and praise for his daughters, but Edna always finds a way to extract what she wants. Like feeding on discomfort,

only it didn't feel like that before.

It felt more like maybe she was just grasping for anything, and he wouldn't blame her considering his ideas about how her and Elwood's childhood must have been. His heart aches for her, it really does, but she scares the hell out of him too and she knows it. It's why she keeps coming back, it's why he finds things missing and moved around... at least that's what he's been trying to convince himself. The thought that it could be someone (or something) else fills him with such overwhelming dread.

What if this isn't her?

Don can't get that thought out of his head and lets out a deep breath, rubbing both hands over his face and then through his thinning, graying hair. "Yeah... yeah." he sighs between his calloused hands, lowering them from his face and heading towards the kitchen. The light flicks on, a cabinet opens and closes.

He doesn't have the energy to keep questioning her when he knows he'll get no answers.

"Only have two kinds," he says, placing the small boxes on the counter, a black tea and another one that just says 'bedtime.'

This post has been edited by Donald Weiser: May 18 2017, 10:31 PM

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: May 21 2017, 09:21 PM
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Edna follows the sound of Don's footsteps into the kitchen, freezes in the doorway for a moment, dazed at the sudden way the room goes from black to a blur of shapeless colors with a flick of the light switch.

When she recovers, she can hear him, see something like movement near the cabinets and that's where she goes, leans so that her hip is pressed against the edge of the counter, hard,

like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to this reality and not the Other,

that feeling like she was the only one left, when her brother and his truck had both disappeared, when Don's front door was locked.

She can't make out the words on the label of either box, doesn't want Don to see her squint and try in vain to make the letters come into focus. She opens them instead, lifts them one at a time to breathe in the scent of each. She takes her time, moves slow, thinks it through even slower before she chooses the bedtime tea, pulls out a teabag for herself and one for Don,

and without even realizing what she's doing, a third for Elwood, like maybe pretending he was there would be enough to make it real.

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Donald Weiser
 Posted: Jul 21 2017, 03:08 PM
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As Edna takes her time to decide, Don busies himself by grabbing the kettle off the stove and filling it with warm water from the sink. He turns the stovetop up high, and then goes over to dig around in another cabinet to pull out two, plain-looking mugs. When he turns back around and walks back over to her, he frowns at the third bag of tea she’s pulled out, taking it in like it’s some kind of message she’s trying to send.
    Is there something, someone else here with them?
Be he can’t bring himself to say anything about it. Addressing it would only make it more real.

Swallowing, his throat is dry with discomfort. He carefully sets down the mugs on the counter before her and walks away again, towards his pantry cabinet where he crouches down and takes some moments to search for the box of saltine crackers he knows he has shoved in the back. He’s not sure if she’ll eat any, but he needs to at least make the offer.

He produces the box from inside the cabinet just as the whistle of the kettle begins to tear through the silence of his small home. Pushing himself up using his knee, a small groan escapes from the back of his throat as pain shoots through his lower back and he rests his other hand in the spot where it hurts. Even so, he manages to quickly turn the heat off and gets to pouring the steaming water into each of the mugs while again eyeing the extra teabag.

“C'mon, let's go back to the living room, sit on the couch where it's comfortable.”

This post has been edited by Donald Weiser: Jul 21 2017, 03:09 PM

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Edna Nödl
 Posted: Jul 24 2017, 03:54 PM
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Back in the living room, Edna sits on the couch with her knees up, pulled in close to her chest. The box of saltine crackers ends up on the coffee table, where she never reaches for it. She doesn't drink her tea either, though she holds her mug with both hands, close enough to her face that she fills her lungs with warmth whenever she breathes in.

For a long time, she's silent, glazed eyes staring off at some imaginary point in the distance. I'm afraid, she wants to tell Don. Wants him to tell her that she could stay here until she wasn't anymore. But she can't find the words for that, doesn't want to ask and be seen needing.

When she finally does speak, she holds all that in, keeps her voice even.

"Do you like being alone?"

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