The beep is followed by a long period of silence.

When a voice finally does surface, it is barely audible, quiet like death.

"Leave a message."

And so it came to pass that the experiment revealed itself to have at least one unexpected benefit. In a wheelchair, one didn't even have to worry about how having a penis between your legs would mess with your already troubled sense of balance.

Adah had considered calling it a day off of classes when she woke up and found herself male again, especially since she didn't have the joy of a perpetually startled roommate to mess with this time. She did, however, have a lot of professors, and she couldn't afford to miss class at all.

The best part of it came, however, during her shift at the clinic, where she had to explain to her superiors and the children she worked with that Adah couldn't make it today, and so he was helping her, a friend of hers, who lost mobility in his legs during a terrible circus accident. And when anyone asked her name, she replied simply, "Leland Adama."

She was already going to hell, anyway...


[[ Lee's name totes stolen with permission; Adah can conveniently find herself on break should there be any phone calls! ]]

When the neurologist came in that morning, he would find Adah on her mattress, as usual, but, not nearly as usual, he would find that she was not alone. She lifted her hand, her left hand, which got a frown out of him because she should using her right, putting a finger to her lips to signify that he should be quiet, and then she nodded, slightly toward the figures across the room at her bookshelf.

"To indulge, for a moment," said the volume of Poe, "in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed."

"Because I could not stop for Death," replied the volume of Dickinson, "he kindly stopped for me; the Carriage held but just Ourselves, and Immortality."

The neurologist looked back at Adah, puzzled, confused, expectant of an explanation.

"I'm waiting for them to make out," she offered.

"...You are so weird," he said after a moment.


[[ post is open! Mun may be slow! Could not refuse! ]]

Being restricted to a bed and unable to move had Adah doing a lot of sleeping, listening to the radio and, the biggest surprise of all, actually looking forward to when the neurologist would stop by to check up on her. She still hated being fed and taken care of, regardless of how necessary it was, but he could give her a few things to make sure that her brain did not join her body in an atrophied state. Read from a book, give her news of campus, or notes on a lecture from the internship that he'd gotten into but she had not. And sometimes, the mail. Usually, there wasn't much. A few flyers for local businesses, the occasional medical university newsletter, a bill or three or five. Today, however, there seemed a few things of note. "What's my mail?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Letter from the university touting your brilliance and apologizing for their hindsight in keeping you out of the summer program..."

"Frak you, they'd rather blow up the lab than let me step on their precious toes. What is there, really?"

"Postcard from your sister," he said, flipping it over so she could see the picture of Big Ben. "She sends greetings from London."

"Of course she's taking the long, scenic route. What else?"

"It looks like an invitation. Your high school? They say there's some dance next weekend..."

Adah just looked at the neurologist from her immovable position on the mattress.

"Oh, fantastic. I can't wait to get out there and show off my new moves. I'll have to go shopping of course, for some new dance shoes and a dress to go with it. Do you think I should get my hair done?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I'll throw it in the trash. Still, that timing. Almost makes you think there is a God after all, and he's got one hell of a sense of humor."

"Excuse me while I wet myself laughing so hard. Lucky you, you'll have to clean up the sheets."


[[ idk, scene stuck in my head since the dance was announced. Post is open, icly and oocly! ]]

"You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." -C.S. Lewis

"You do not have a soul. You are a collective bundle of neurons and sensors. You have a body." -A.E. Price

You have a body. You have a body. You, a body have. Body, have you a...A body, you have. Ydob a evah uoy...

Proprioception. Predominant position sense. It was the thing that allowed a person to be aware of their own body as their own body, a subconscious neurological sense that helped maintain the concept that your arms were your arms, your legs were your legs, your self your self. Adah had never had the best relationship with proprioception before, at times finding that limp and lifeless right side of her to be something foreign and unfamiliar. But to feel it as she was starting to feel it now, as a week of little to no movement started to inspire the left side to follow suit, she discovered a sudden clinging to her idea of body, so tumultuous and awkward her entire life. To see one's own limbs lying there and to think to yourself, Who do those belong to? Surely, they cannot be mine. I am thinking about moving them, but they remain still, like corpses. Surely, they cannot be mine...

You have a body, Adah. This is your body. Still, like it was supposed to be before you very stubbornly said no, lifted yourself, and limped in defiance of your body, dragging it along against its will, answering only to yours.

She watched these alien limbs quietly for a moment, until, finally, her attempts at telepathy seemed to have worked and the big toe of her left foot gave a twitch.

( Cut for too much Sisterly Love to Handle. Not dirty. )

Thankfully, blissfully, Rachel seemed to have hung up the phone there, and the neurologist returned it once the dial tone returned. He gave Adah an apologetic smile, but she was not in the least bit swayed. "You ever do that again," she warned, "you are going to be the first person with a syringe through your eye the moment I regain my mobility."

It would be very poetic in its irony, really.


[[ Parts of this inspired by my very timely reading of the first part of The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat, which is probably my new Adah bible. Parts also to set up no_snow_white's eventual arrival, yay! She, naturally, was modded with complete permission. Post is also very open, for IC and OOC alike ]]

Adah Price was a young woman in a long distance relationship with a very, very attractive man, so she would hardly need some fertilizing element of flowering plants, consisting of fine, powdery, yellowish grains or spores, sometimes in masses to get her erogenous zones going. She certainly didn't need them to feel a devastating urge to jump his bones while watching him move things (mostly books, of course) for her into her new apartment, free of perpetually startled roommates and a clause about overnight male visitors leading to expulsion from school.

Ah, revolutionary modernity felt so, so good.

Adah had the mattress moved into the wide open flat first, not to christen it immediately to the place, although the thought did cross her mind. However, patience was a virtue and she could enjoy that plenty later. For now, she was far more amused by lounging comfortably on it, watching the Eel slither in and out with her belonging from the truck down on the street.

"I'd offer to help," she said, "but, you know how it is. I'm supposed to be turning into a neurological vegetable right now. I think moving boxes is definitely out of bounds for activities possible while reseting my motor functions, darlin'."


[[ I put it up early 'cuz I wanted to. For he who was shamelessly modded into moving stuff for the hemiplegic, please! ]]

Adah knew, before she opened the envelop, what the contents would say. It wasn't as if she needed the envelop. She could tell by the way her fellow students, the way some of her professors, the way even some of the people at the clinic would look at her, that it was another rejection. The fact that she hadn't even received it until now was even more proof. Still, she opened it, slid out the folded paper with Emory's medical school emblem on top.

Dear Miss Price,

Thank you for your interest in our summer clinic internship. We regret to inform you, however...

She didn't read any further. She didn't have it. It wasn't the money this time. It wasn't her gender or her inexperience. Or even her ability.

It was, instead, her disability. He eyes easily spotted out phrases: exceptional performance, however, incredibly intensive, however, high complex maneuvers, however, no question of intellectual capabilities, however, however, revewoh...

Adah just sat for a while in her room, until the day turned dark and turned night, and then she let out a slow breath. Then she stood up and limped down the stairs of the dormitory, into the lobby, to the phones, an annoying long journey, and then she picked up a receiver and made a call.

"Yeah," she said, "I'll need to move by next week...Mmhm. I finally want to get started on it, we can get started then..."

And he'd known why she asked of it now, too. He knew that she didn't get in again, too. Adah sat there for a while longer after that, just trying to keep it all in perspective. There was only one thing holding her back, and it was about damn time she got rid of it.

And she thought she was ready for it; doubt wasn't something she was used to, but that was definitely what she felt.


[[ about fifty years later than I had intended, but post can be open, shure! ]]

It was a Saturday and Adah Price was not either in the library or the clinic. In fact, she was outside, in the sun, enjoying the weather.

Needless to say, a few of the people who knew her and saw her there were appropriately disturbed.

But, in cleaning out some things on her desk to prepare for the end of her semester, she'd come across an old book, worn and creased and well used, and now it sat sitting on her lap, although she barely needed to use it out here in a public campus park in the middle of the city. In her good hand, she held a pair of binoculars, trained toward the sky and the trees, birdwatching.

Ornithology took on a decidedly boring veneer here in Atlanta, especially compared to the multitude of brilliant birds found in Africa, but coming across Brother Fowles' book made Adah just a little bit nostalgic.


[[ apparently, all my characters want to post things today despite the fact that I'm slow as sin. That, and researching birdwatching for a project made me remember how much I neglect Adah's birdwatching. Post can be open to correspondence, too! ]]

With a sigh, Adah paused, curling over her desk a little bit more because it was far more comfortable that straightening up, and she looked at the various papers and books scattered in front of her. She told herself that she had nothing to worry about, really; these reports weren't due for a while now, but, of course, when it came closer to the due date, she'd be wanting to already get a start on this summer's work. They were not denying her that internship again next summer, so help her...

She rubbed her eyes a little with her left hand. Damn pediatrics, but she knew it was necessary. Usually, she wouldn't have so much trouble with a report for class, but, somehow, she didn't think her professor would very much appreciate the angle she was thinking of: that gesticulation of a child was almost exactly like a parasite.

Think about it...


[[ likely expecting a call from a baby daddy, but open to other correspondence as well! ]]

Even if it weren't for the things that showed up for her that day, Adah would have been insanely proud of what she herself had sent. Not because it was now reciprocal; she knew the Eel would do something stupid and mushy like that. But she was proud of it...just because. Thinking about it, though, and looking at the flowers and the box of chocolates and the teddy bear (who, consequently, now had a very evident stitch sewn into his side; Adah felt like performing a splenectomy not long after it arrived) had her also eying the phone devise that she still wasn't sure about. She'd gotten that one rogue call that one day that lead her to believe it might still be of use, but, for the most part, sending something and calling was far too much overkill for her. Even sending something had been pushing it.

And, of course, the perpetually startled roommate had far too many things to say about Adah's gifts, in far too shrill tones.

Adah drew the line at the chocolates.

"Oh, may I have some?"

"No. And I'm taking them with me tonight so don't think you can steal one without me noticing."

"With you? To where?"

"My shift. At the clinic."

"You're working on Valentine's Day?"

"It's not like disease takes a holiday just because Hallmark says we need to buy shit about how much we love each other. In fact, tonight's one of those nights were you see a significant insurgance in the statistics of contracted sexually transmitted disea--"

"Adah! Eeeew! I'm getting out of here before you start talkiing abo--"

"Genital warts?" Adah offered; she barely got a chance to finish the suggestion before the door was closed.

Worked every time.


[[ can be open, of couuuuuurse ]]

[[also I have to comment on the awesomeness that is the fact that Adah's 'loved' mood has Turtle in it (yes, that's Jena Malone, honestly). zomg, meeeeeta ]]

There were quite a few benefits to not caring what anyone thought of you, particularly how you looked, especially when you had a hat randomly showing up on your head. Random hat, tah! Mod nar. The attention through her classes had almost even amused Adah, although not as much as the fact that she knew no one would say anything out of fear for how she'd respond.

Sure, she had a giant bow (wob tna ig!) on her head, but what of it? She could still beat them all in grades and kill them subtly in their sleep.

It even worked inadvertently because the perpetually startled roommate had never before made such a quick decision to not badger Adah about going out that night, leaving her to spend the rest of the evening in the labs, catching up on one of her many projects.

Amoebas didn't exactly take note of your headgear when you were dealing with them, and half an hour into it, she'd almost forgotten about it entirely.


[[ mostly establishy, although, as always, open to contact and comments! ]]

As much as it pained Adah to admit it, even to the deepest recesses of her heart, the perpetually startled roommate had been right on at least three accords: she hadn't needed to study for that exam (anyone with half a brain, har har, could have aced it), she did actually enjoy a certain level of the atmosphere at the concert, and the letter, passed to her that morning, was from Africa.

Just the wrong part of Africa.

Adah was so infuriated to see the words Johannesburg and Axelroot on the envelop that she almost limped right over to her roommate and shoved it right up her rectum intestinum.

Still, she opened what was clearly an overdue Christmas letter and read anyway:

( Merry Christmas, Adah! )

...If it weren't for the fact that the ending was so incredibly ridiculous, Adah might have actually come out of that letter feeling incredibly annoyed.

And then she realized that this was Rachel, and it was as useless being annoyed by Rachel's vapid existence as it was to be annoyed at a plant for photosynthesizing. She sighed, laying back in her bed and staring at the ceiling with the letter across her chest, wondering why the hell it couldn't have just been from Leah instead.


[[ totally tl;dr, but I don't care, I love Rachel. XD Letter taken almost entirely from pages 424-46 of Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible. Post is open in all shapes and forms and sizes! ]]

( A black heart only turns darker in the light of blackmail. )

[[ slightly GIP, slightly establishy, mostly me just trying to wrangle some Adah out again, especially as I keep collecting more and more pretty icons (lol new movies!). Post is open as always to OOC or IC contact. Dog only knows, she wouldn't mind anything interrupting the forced night out ]]

There was absolutely no way that Adah, even before she got to what was in the package, could not be cheered up by what she'd received that morning. One she did get to the article, there was no holding her back.

"What's so funny?" Orleanna, on her way to the door, was likely very disturbed by the peals of laughter coming from her usually deathly quiet daughter.

"My boyfriend," Adah announced, between giggles, "is going to win the Pulitzer."

Of course, her mother rolled her eyes, and did not care to inquire further. "I'm heading into town; do you need anything, Adah?"

"Yeah," she said, trying her hardest to sober up. "An eight-by-ten frame."

Again, Orleanna wasn't going to inquire further. "Fine. Also, that nice, cute fellow,"--It was Adah's turn to roll her eyes at her mother's thin attempts to get her interest sparked in anyone who wasn't an Eel--"might be stopping by while I'm out to check out the pipes. There's something wrong with them, and if he can't figure it out, I'll call mana--"

"It's eggnog."

"What?"

"Eggnog. Didn't you taste it?"

"Why would there be eggnog coming from...Oh, never mind. Just be nice to plumber when he comes over, would you?"

Adah shrugged, and went back to read the article again, backwards this time.


[[ open, sure, if you wanna call or have reason to be in Georgia in 1963 ]]

Although it was still fairly early, Adah had slept in considerably for her, but she doubted she could really be blamed considering that she didn't usually have company in bed with her (it was a small apartment and Orleanna had worn that Adah Ellen Price, I'm a mother, but I'm not an idiot look on her face that let her daughter know that it was fine, just don't say anything about it). She lingered a little, enjoying the quiet, enjoying him there, before, soundlessly, she slipped out and down the hall to the kitchen, where the smells of the ensuing meal were already filling the tiny space. In little more than the Eel's t-shirt and house slippers, Adah fell naturally, silently into place to helping with the prep work.

The only sound would come from either cooking the food itself or the Eel when he got up.

Adah was making sure to save all the easy things for him.


[[ *handwaveys on somehow timelines being congruent even though Thanksgiving was on November 28th in 1963. For that one guy, and SP of great proportions is magic and sunshine and stuffing. ]]

The perpetually started roommate was pouting petulantly at Adah once again.

"You can't," she informed her roommate importantly as she all but dragged the crooked girl down the street of college and fraternity houses, "just put on a hat, hold a pop gun, and call it a costume." She, in her skirting-the-edge-of-decency pin-up get-up.

"Yes, I can," Adah informed her back. "Especially if you're going to insist on dragging me out tonight to get sympathy points from frat boys."

Her startled expression grew into one of shock. "I wouldn't do that, Adah!"

"Uh-huh," Adah put the pop gun to the side of her head and pulled the trigger, which let off a dissatisfying little crack and filled the air with the faint scent of the burning.

"Ugh! Don't be so morbid!"

"It's Halloween," Adah reminded her. "What else would I be? Just be glad I went with cowgirl corpse instead of decapitated and bloody past the point of recognition corpse."

"UGH!"

[[ so I like taking advantage of all the icons I can from various movies. Also, I'm a dork. Open for contacting if'n you want for any reason/in any way, or OOC, whateeeevs. ]]

Red pen scribbled on the last page, the only page Adah bothered to pay attention to:

"Ms. Price,

Your exploration of the male orgasm comes off as unnecessarily detailed, disturbingly personal, and borders on the extremely vulgar. Please see me after class."

The problem with receiving a paper back before the class began was that, on reading your professor's notes and practically barking out a laugh tended to have the attention of anyone in the near vicinity constantly shifting toward you.

Adah didn't care, though. It was worth it.


[[ hi, yeah, I'm just being a dork. ]]

Even if Adah wasn't mostly paralyzed on one side of her body, she wouldn't have wanted to move from where she was when she woke up late Saturday morning, anyway. It took just a fleeting moment to recall; not the lonely, slightly musty mattress of her small dormitory bed, but, instead, the large, soft bed of her hotel room at the Arms, wrapped in the comfort of blankets and very nice arms. She smiled, not even opening her eyes yet, and shifted a little, awakening sleeping limbs, and drawing closer to the Eel, wondering how late he'd sleep in. Hopefully for a while; the last twelve hours or so had been deliciously exhausting, and she didn't want to go anywhere.


[[ for the very unaltered boyfriend. Let's face it; these two don't NEED a SOW to do SOW things ]]