writtenrecordsfm​:

Location: Anywhere in town With: Sevda @stardvstfm​

“Well,” Annalise said to Sevda. “Good morning to you, too.” It was something Annalise said, regardless if she had been greeted first. In truth, she didn’t always know what to think of Sevda, in much the same way her regard for others in the cult community remained an open question, but she enjoyed Sevda’s company well enough to associate with her from time to time. In any case, she was so enmeshed in the community that Annalise couldn’t say no to her presence.

Though, she wondered if Sevda would have chosen this life, had she not been brought into it by her father whom she merely tolerated. The man was appropriately fervent. Sevda was obedient. That would due for now. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Annalise said. “I only come because I want your opinion on something. You know, as someone closer to my age than to, you know, the old Pastor.”

" good morning annalise, ” she looked up when the younger girl spoke. ensuring that she does respond, ensuring that the other wouldn’t think that sev would be ignoring her as she didn’t speak first. “ how are you today? ” it was easy to be kind, easy to ask such a simple question, but she truly does want to know. wants to ensure that the girl is doing alright inside and out of the church. 

a quick shake of her head, letting the other know that she was not interrupting anything. all sevda was doing was getting groceries, but surely that can wait. it’s not like she had to cook at this exact moment anyways. besides, she would never want to be rude. 

“ no, i have time. how can i help? ” always so eager to help, so eager to please someone else, even if they are younger than herself. she ignored the comment about pastor north, not wanting to disagree, not wanting to get involved. besides, couldn’t the other have just been commenting on pastor north’s age rather than his disappearance? it’s certainly possible which means there was no reason to comment on such a thing.

azriel-campbell​:

Status: open @narrativestarters​

Where: Carol’s Coffee

Seeing as it was the only coffee place in town, Azriel didn’t have much a choice but to go to this place for his cup of joe. He hadn’t felt like drinking coffee at home this morning, so here he was. Hearing his order being called out, a large latte with an extra shot, he made his way to the counter and picked up his drink. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the person behind him in his peripheral vision.

He suddenly found himself barely two inches from someone else’s face, coffee sloshing dangerously in his hand as he stumbled and attempted to regain his balance. When he knew he hadn’t burned himself, he turned his attention back to them. “Shit, I’m so sorry! You didn’t burn yourself did you? I really gotta watch where I’m going.”

.

coffee was not her favorite thing in the world. well. that would be wrong. she’s never had coffee. but she just assumes that it wouldn’t be good, avoiding it because that’s what her father told her. but bagels from carol’s coffee... that’s not coffee. it’s just bagels. and those were good. so perhaps it would be okay if she treated herself with one just once and a while. unfortunately today, she found herself standing at a spot that perhaps, she should have been standing just a step to the side instead.

coffee spilled onto her dress, her feet --- at least it was just a dress. it can be cleaned. and thankfully, her hand wasn’t near the spill. she shook her head at the other, “ no, no. i’m quite alright. are you? it -- it wasn’t too hot was it? is your hand okay? ”

doloresmitchell​:

WHERE: Holy Wisdom Church WHEN: Some time mid-afternoon WHO: Open!

Dolores could not shake the feeling that the church was the wrong place for her to be. Vacant, in the cold light of day, the structure felt pretend, flimsy, like a child had built it out of a shoebox on a long summer afternoon. On her knees, eyes shut tight, Dolores reached into its silence, determined to find and grasp onto that low hum that always coursed through sacred spaces, that nigh-imperceptible buzz of something. But she came up empty. This afternoon, the church’s silence was just that – flat, hollow, nothing. She had always favoured solitary prayer, never quite capable of losing herself in the rapturous ecstasy of demonstrative collective worship – but she had never in her life felt so crushingly, unequivocally, alone.

It was exactly as she had feared. What else had she expected to happen? God was omniscient, he had seen, and this crushing emptiness was His decisive response.

“Tell me what to do,” she pleaded quietly.

The silence threw her own voice back at her, unforgiving. She heard her age, her fear, her guilt in the church’s echo. Still no hum, no holiness, just a widow’s cracked voice in the abyss.

She couldn’t do it anymore. She opened her eyes and found her vision blurred with tears. Slowly, she pushed herself off her knees and onto a pew, twisting her wedding ring in fervent circles and wondering where, exactly, this left her.

it was wrong of her to listen to another’s prayer --- was this a sin? she was quite unsure, but it still felt wrong regardless. like she was intruding to someone’s private thoughts, someone’s private pleads and desires. these were not for her ears but for God’s and God’s only. she was only there to offer another prayer for pastor north, to wish for his safe return once more. no where in it did she wish to interrupt someone else’s prayers. 

and yet, she still heard but she could pretend as if she hadn’t. there are times where it truly does feel as if the prayers are spoken to someone closed off, ears turned away. and maybe that’s why her heart pains for the elder member of the church, why she didn’t truly mind too much when delivering food to the other’s home in support, in hopes that the grief that she must be facing will dwindle even just a little bit.

she waited until they were done, until they had rose before she spoke. “ mrs. mitchell? how are you? are you doing alright? ” was that too many questions? should she had just offered a quiet hello? hopefully, she had not overstepped here. 

expectatiions​:

OPEN STARTER: @narrativestarters​ LOCATION: Galveston Gas

“Hey!” Ismayella shouted from behind the counter. Standing up off of her stool and throwing up her arm, she pointedly stared down the kid stuffing a bag of Cheetos down his pants. “Are you even trying, dumbass?!” After the kid, red-cheeked with embarrassed eyes, put the Cheetos back, she sat back down with a roll of her eyes. She looked at the person who’d just come up to the counter, taking their item and ringing it up. “Insulting. Am I wrong?” 

.

don’t get involved. her father’s voice appeared in her mind, as though to remind her that she was only meant to buy what he had requested and nothing more. but --- a part of her felt bad for the young boy. perhaps he was just hungry? “ i could buy it for him. ” sev couldn’t help but offer. it was just cheetos and yes, he shouldn’t have taken it with the intention of stealing --- a sin. but they were also just a kid and all she wants to do is help. “ you aren’t... wrong. it’s rude to try and steal. so i’ll just buy it for him. ” as if that could smooth all of this over.

jxckv​:

                   𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒   𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆   and   Jack’s   the   luckiest   man   in   Holy   Cross   ,   no   ,   in   the   entire   fucking   state   of   Kentucky.   It’s   a   sound   sent   from   the   skies   :   a   supernova   flaming   to   life   ,   a   shooting   star   BLAZING   across   the   night.   Her   smile   starts   shy   ;   somehow   ,   he’s   blessed    with   watching   it   bloom   across   her   face   like   the   most   beautiful   flower.   “   Much   obliged   ,   ma’am.   ”   Still   grinning   ,   he   tips   an   invisible   cowboy   hat   ,   low   voice   dripping   with   a   faux   Southern   accent.   

                      Was   it   just   him   ,   or   had   the   rest   of   the   town   gone   still   ?   The   two   of   them   stand   on   the   steps   of   the   church   ,   in   plain   view   of   the   Holy   Cross   flocks   ,   but   Jack   couldn’t   care   less   —   he   might   as   well   have   been   hypnotized   by   the   deep   hazel   of   her   eyes.   Already   ,   there’s   a   renewed   pitter   patter   to   the   beating   of   his   heart   ,   a   torrential   downpour   of   beats   that   shakes   his   ribcage   and   startles   him   awake.   His   nerves   BUZZ   ,   his   senses   ebb   with   a   new   awareness.   “   Your   name   would   definitely   be   a   gift.   ”   A   charming   sentiment   ,   but   it   tumbles   out   a   bit   too   quick   as   he   fidgets   ,   shifting   on   his   feet.   “   Sevda.   ”   He   repeats   ,   savours   the   sweet   name   on   his   tongue.   “   Sev.   Sevvy.   ”   Variations   spill   out   from   between   a   grin   before   he   settles   on   one.   “   Seven.   Can   I   call   you   seven   ?   ”   Finally   ,   a   sweaty   palm   extends   between   them.   “   I’m   Jack   ,   by   the   way.   ”

time pauses and at this moment there was him and her. whatever she was doing, whatever she was meant to be finishing, seemed lost in this moment for she has allowed herself to fall into his eyes as they stretched across the universe. he had eyes that she could imagine, seen only in paintings, beauty that cannot be explained. the twinkle inside of them as he joked, as he smiled back at her. it was enough for her breath to get stuck in her throat. if the stories of a princess meeting a prince weren’t just fairy tales, she wonders if this is how they felt when they met for the first time for it truly seemed like something out of this world, something strange and warm at the same time. 

‘ your name would definitely be a gift. ’

red grows across her features, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that she would be unfamiliar with. there is no explanation for it was a feeling she never knew before. and she liked it. she wanted to chase this feeling, to never want it go, for it to stay in this moment --- or maybe she just wishes she would stay in this moment forever. the sound of her name escaping from his lips, nicknames he tried out, she decided then and there that she quite liked that, or perhaps she just liked the sound of his voice, liked to listen to him speak. another silent wish for the conversation to never end. the name he finally chooses, one she never been called before, and she can’t say that she didn’t enjoy it. or maybe she just enjoyed it because it came from him. “ you are more than welcome to call me seven, jack. ” jack, jack, jack. she repeated the name several times in her head, hoping to never forget it, never forget him. 

she allowed herself to take his hand, a shake felt odd but the feeling of his hand in her own? the hope of him never letting go rose to the top of her mind. she probably held on for too long, not knowing if this would make him uncomfortable. and with such regret, she let go, allowing her hand to rest on the broom once more -- though the object was so meaningless at this time. “ so jack. what can i help you with? ” don’t leave. a voice begs inside her mind, pleading for the conversation to never end.

cheselswood​:

Ches smiles when Sevda responds, and yet despite how glad she is to talk to her friend again, maybe this wasn’t her brightest idea. Because they are clearly both waiting for trouble, for someone to come out and catch them talking, and all they could do was hope that her current idea worked out the way she wanted it to. “It’s nice to feel seen. I ran into my father a couple weeks ago, and I don’t think he noticed me.” She admits as goes to play with one of her curls, twirling it around her finger as she speaks. “I never realized just how much I’d miss the church.”

Or well, how much she’d miss the people. How much she wished she could go back to helping Sev with her chores when the girl would permit it, or go to the market with the North sisters. When she didn’t have to go to the mines to chat to Hal, and when her father still acknowledged her existence. Maybe the man never loved her, honestly the more she thought about it the more she doubted he was capable of love, but at least then she was entirely oblivious to how easily he could discard her.

She shouldn’t be surprised Sevda refuses her offer to help. It was far from the first time, and now she wasn’t exactly on welcome terms, but she nods. “If you think of anything Sev, it’s an open offer to help.” She glances back to the door again. Was it less or more suspicious if she kept looking? Honestly, she had no clue. “And I hope whatever arguments they’ve been having aren’t too catastrophic. I know how brutal power struggles get.” Remington had already been ex-communicated as a result of Pastor North’s disappearance. And sure, Ches loved having her friend back, but she doubted the rest of her friends would react nearly as well to such a thing happening to them, and so it became an emotional conflict.

there wasn’t much that she could say to ches in this situation... she misses the other, of course, but sev is not allowed to say otherwise, not allowed to even look at those like ches in the town, much less speak to them. something about that...never sat right with her. it always felt so...confusing. after all, only those without sin are allowed to throw the first stone and while they may not be stoning people these days, this feels like a new form of it. outcast others who may need their help to come back to the light more than anything. “ i’m... sorry to hear that. ” and she was, truly, sorry. “ he’s doing well, your father. if you are curious. ” he hasn’t spoken about you, your name hasn’t been mentioned. words unspoken, unsaid, and true all the same. but how could she tell the other such things?  it would be cruel. the next comment, she’s not sure what to say, so she chooses to say nothing. if ches asked for forgiveness, would she even be forgiven? if she repented, would her words be heard? she just didn’t know.

as each second passed, the chance of them being discovered, of her speaking to someone that was banished to be looked at, would be found out and trouble lies ahead of her. as much as she wishes she could tell ches more, to talk freely without such worries that linger behind every word, she cannot. the world is not a kind place... but maybe, this brief moment could be kind in itself. that’s all she can really offer to her lost friend.

“ thank you ches, that is very kind of you. ” and it was, but would she actually take up the offer of help if she truly needed it? that was something sev wasn’t quite sure on. not being able to accept help resulted in the difficult of asking for it, a thought to try and overcome another day. “ one can only pray that those in disagreements will come to an understanding soon. ” is that even possible? perhaps not. but she can still hope, still pray, still wish. her eyes drift behind her, expecting the chapel doors to be wide open and a member of the church standing there, but they were closed and still as can be. she let out a soft sigh, one of relief perhaps, before looking back at ches. “ i should --- um, get back to my chores. ”

huntsgod​:

━━         𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁         ◞        location.         𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏       𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕         .

the   stack   of   boxes   she   held   within   her   arms   weren’t   that   heavy.   (   inside   :   some   clothes   ,   some   books   ,   some   other   miscellaneous   items   of   unknown   origins   all   well   layered   in   thick   coatings   of   dust   and   dirt   and   rot   ).   three   ,   well   sized   boxes   ,   that   when   held   together   layered   high   enough   for   the   ragged   edges   of   the   topmost   one   to   brush   her   lips   with   every   step   ;   one   moment   soft   like   a   kiss   ,   others   as   sharp   as   a   knife.   her   chest   felt   hollowed   under   the   pressures   of   the   cardboard   and   life   here   ,   and   her   limbs   were   so   leaden   they   were   practically   numb.   even   so   ,   she   continued   on   with   her   gentle   gait   ;   chin   up   ,   smile   warmwarmwarm   ⸻   her   perfected   little   war   march   to   the   beat   of   a   dead   man’s   drum.   

               ❛               i’m   so   sorry   ,   but   could   i   bother   you   for   the   door   ?               ❜               sometimes   it   felt   like   a   shame   how   small   the   town   truly   was   ,   how   easy   it   was   to   walk   from   one   end   of   main   to   the   other.   she   almost   wished   the   streets   would   never   end   ,   and   that   she   could   simply   settle   into   her   pace   and   never   stop.   but   as   a   wise   man   once   said   :   wishes   were   fishes   ,   and   perhaps   the   boxes   were   getting   to   feel   quite   heavy   ,   so   reaching   out   for   help   with   opening   a   door   didn’t   feel   too   selfish   for   the   day.

                                                                                ╱         @narrativestarters

" serenity! ” she proclaimed with such surprise and excitement --- quite typical of her when she was with her dear friend. since children, they have been close as can be, laughter always follows wiith them whenever they were together. but right now, perhaps would not be the best time for such excitements. not when pastor north was missing --- when serenity’s father lost to them. but still. an easy smile crosses her face, hopeful that maybe she can get one to rise on the other’s, to bring some joy in such a dark time.

sev rushed to the request, holding the door wide up so they could easily move through with boxes in her hand. curious of what may be in there but never going to ask, going to question. “ you are never a bother. ” words spoken so true that no one could doubt the sincerity of them. “ i wish you had told me you would be out and about, i would have gone with you. ” even if her chores were not finished, she could always come back to them after spending time with such a dear friend. 

“ would you like some help? ” eager to be of assistance, eager to bear whatever burden she can for the other, even if that means holding a few boxes. “ i have some time, so really, it would be no trouble. ”

huntsgod​:

━━         𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁         ◞        location.         𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏       𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕         .

there   was   a   splatter   of   something   on   the   side   of   his   shoe   and   it   was   kinda   ,   sorta   ,   really   pissing   him   right   the   fuck   off.   it   had   been   an   all   white   shoe   once   ,   a   long   ,   long   time   ago.   but   after   years   of   wearing   them   nearly   to   the   sole   in   mad   dashes   and   late   night   binges   ‘till   the   sun   came   up   ,   it   was   moreso   a   miracle   that   there   weren’t   more   stains.   then   again   ,   give   him   thirty   minutes   and   he   probably   wouldn’t   remember   to   be   pissed   about   it   in   the   first   place   ,   until   the   next   time   it   caught   his   eye   ,   of   course.   there   was   always   some   other   shit   he’d   grow   to   be   mad   about   ,   and   it   was   only   unfortunate   timing   that   found   him   sitting   out   on   the   curb   at   a   quarter   past   three   am   in   the   first   place   ;      his   legs   kicked   out   in   front   of   him   ,   and   his   sneakers   within   his   line   of   sight.   there   was   a   nasty   little   gash   somewhere   in   the   vincinity   of   his   right   brow   ,   and   his   knuckles   were   busted   something   ugly   ,   but   it   was   really   the   ache   across   his   ribs   that   kept   him   stagnant   ,   debating   the   pros   and   cons   of   ringing   up   a   friend.   

               ❛               fucking   shoes   man.   fucking   shoes.               ❜               then   again   ,   maybe   he   could   just   lay   back   and   chill   there   until   someone   straggled   by.   it   wasn't   that   far   off   from   sunrise   ,   or   at   least   until   some   early   bird   bullshit   crowing   crazy   fuck   wandered   by   ,   right   ?

                                                                                ╱         @narrativestarters​

it was about the time she should be getting home, back underneath covers as though she has never left in the middle of the night. her parents would not be happy to learn about the walks she takes at night, but she could not help herself. not when the moon looks so inviting, not when the stars shine so bright in the sky, begging someone to look up at them and count them, trace them. but the night ends all too fast, her adventure must come to an end and her life goes back exactly as it was before.

usually, mostly always, she never meets someone on the street as she walks home. perhaps that was luck, perhaps it was too late --- too early? --- for someone to be awake and wandering just like her. today, however, seemed different. especially when she looked over and spotted a body pushed against a wall. maybe she should ignore them, keep walking. but how could she do that without ensuring that they were okay? her conscience would never let her do that. 

she crossed the street a bit nervously as she approached him, and as she grew closer, worry for the other’s safety rose in her mind. “ are you okay? ” a question spoke so softly, she doesn’t know the other even heard her. perhaps it was for the best for he truly did not look okay. “ can i... um help you? ” 

rxdley​:

WHO: @narrativefm​ members ( open ) WHEN: mid-morning WHERE: mayor walker’s office

“Oh shoot–”

The papers scattered from the drawer, where it appeared they had been entombed, untouched and forgotten at a desk that seemed in dis-use. Ridley slid from her chair, kneeling to collect them, regretting her decision to implement any kind of structure at the mayor’s office. The space was multi-purpose: town hall, archive, directory, historical society – and more all in one...and it showed. She sighed, taking a moment to sit blankly on the ground behind the desk, simmering in sentimentality for place far from there.

Ridley left Boston rather unceremoniously, an anticlimactic end to an electric few years of immersion. After all, she brought home the only person she’d really connected with, and the rest wouldn’t understand why she’d come home at all. Not really, anyway. They’d pretend, with their sympathetic smiles and eyes soft with pity, bidding a visitor goodbye after they had overstayed their welcome. Besides, how was she supposed to explain to her classmates – all Aspirationally Interesting People™ – that while they went off to circuit internships, or got jobs as production assistants, or joined their parents on a set somewhere, Ridley would be returning to her hometown and resuming her work organizing decaying paperwork at Pa’s office?

A bell jingled on the door, signaling an end to her introspection. Ridley swallowed, reappearing from behind the desk as she gave the documents a final collecting tap.

“Mornin’,” she called, smile stretching in greeting. “Mayor Walker isn’t available right now, but I can take a message for you – or help you out with anything else you might need?”

.

there was a reason she came here.... wasn’t there? the list of chores left at home, her father’s requests forgotten in her mind. she can already see him reprimanding her for forgetting such an important task --- was it important? if it was, he would have never given it to her in the first place. important tasks were not for women, her father once told her in the form of one of his many rants on what was appropriate for women of and without the church. sometimes she wonders if her mother believes the same as him.

“ yes um -- ” she was not ready, still no idea what the message she was suppose to deliver was. but sev cannot expect the other to wait so long for her to remember, for her to figure out. she had to come up with something soon. she flushed as time ticked on. a bit embarrassed really. but there was at least something she could ask. if she cannot deliver the message that her father requested of her, perhaps the message can be delivered a different way. “ sorry, ” an apology for taking so long, an apology that felt so natural as when she says them, they typically are. 

“ could you have mayor walker give a call to İbrahim özberk when they have the time? ” even if that wasn’t the right message, at least something was delivered. perhaps her father won’t notice, perhaps he’ll never know. after all, surely he would want to speak with the mayor himself. or perhaps he will be furious that he must speak on the phone, he never was fond of technology despite them having a cord phone in the house. “ i would appreciate it. ”

grxce​:

                𝐈𝐓'𝐒   𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇   𝐀   𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄   𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀   —   to   fill   the   church   with   flowers   for   Pastor   North’s   return.   Grace   wishes   absently   for   even   a   snippet   of   the   same   naivety   ,   for   a   breath   of   fresh   air   to   cleanse   her   TOXIC   thoughts.   But   ,   of   course   ,   they   all   had   roles   to   play.   God   had   a   purpose   for   each   and   every   one   of   them.   And   Sevda’s   was   to   be   kind   and   spineless.   Grace’s   purpose   had   a   higher   meaning   ;   she   would   be   the   one   to   make   the   the   harsh   decisions   when   people   like   Sevda   couldn’t.   Grace   would   lead   ,   Sevda   would   follow.   Watching   her   care   for   the   memorial   ,   a   stray   thought   betrays   her   :   that   her   Father   much   would   have   preferred   a   daughter   like   Sevda   to   the   one   he   actually   received.   

                    Grace   allows   herself   to   fold   into   Sevda’s   arms   ,   continuing   the   parade   of   tears   down   her   cheeks   and   gasps   of   air   into   her   lungs.   Her   body   ,   a   PUPPET   on   invisible   strings.   “   I   —   I’m   just   so   worried   ,   Sev.   ”   When   she   pulls   back   ,   meets   her   friend’s   soft   eyes   ,   a   pang   of   affection   twists   in   her   chest   ,   and   for   a   moment   ,   the   tears   that   fall   come   from   a   place   that’s   real.   Mourning   the   loss   of   a   friendship   that   was   once   real   ,   the   septic   poisoning   of   Sevda’s   friendship   until   it   shriveled   into   something   cold   and   black   within   Grace’s   chest.   A   trembling   finger   lifts   to   brush   tears   from   her   cheeks   as   she   pulls   away.   

                   "   That’d   be   real   nice   ,   Sevda   ,   thank   you.   “   Sniffling   ,   her   arms   encircle   her   torso   ,   shoulders   hunched   in   the   perfect   display   of   Holy   Wisdom   servitude.   ”   The   Lord   sees   your   eternal   kindness   ,   and   will   reward   you   one   day.   I’m   certain   of   it.   Holy   Wisdom   wouldn’t   be   the   same   without   you.“   It’s   the   least   she   can   do   ,   this   genuine   SENTIMENT   encased   in   Holy   Wisdom   platitudes.   Their   arms   link   together   and   the   two   begin   to   walk   in   the   direction   of   Sevda’s   house.   

oh how she wished she could take the pain away from her friend --- to see her smiling and laughing once more, just as if they were still children, playing together. grief is a horrible thing to have, a devastating effect it can hold onto a person and that is something she would have never wished upon her worst enemy, if she had one. the hug was at least one thing that she can offer the other, hoping that would take away some of the ache that the other may be feeling at this time. her fingers rubbing up and down as she spoke, careful not to talk until she could get it all out. giving her time, something that was certainly much needed for all. 

but the hug ends, and time has never once been kind enough for a pause. sevda gives her a soft smile, one that she hoped conveys some form of understanding despite not truly knowing how grace feels. pastor north was lost to all but no one in the church could understand what his family was going through at this time. the only hope they may have is to pray and hope. “ he’s going to come back, ” an empty promise, one that she knows she may not be able to fulfil. “ i know it. God is looking after him right now and He will lead him home to us. ” 

“ you never have to thank me grace, i’m always here for you, ” now that could be a promise she can keep, one that she wants to. her friend means so much to her. the gratitude that her friend displayed makes her embarrassed more than anything else, but still. she was grateful for her words, grateful that the other speaks so positively even at this time. arms linked, sevda led the way. a silent wish, a silent hope that her father would not be home when they arrive knowing how he desires to take over for pastor north. but it is not the time for that conversation.

as they walked, she began to ramble. to fill the space in the empty air in hopes of a form of distraction for the other. “ i believe i have enough to make a batch of cookies. not sure if i have any chocolate chips, however. i could do some snickerdoodles if you would wish to assist me? perhaps if we make enough, we could offer up our leftovers to others in the church, or those in need? ”

supcrncva​:

it   felt   rare   to   find   someone   else   who   shared   her   culture,   a   similar   heritage   perhaps   but   it   was   rude   to   assume   that   was   the   case   so   danah   tried   not   to   think   of   it   that   way.   but   she   couldn’t   shake   the   sense   of   familiarity   or   the   way   sevda   looked   so   much   like   her   sisters.   she   nodded   at   the   girls   thanks,   she   really   hadn’t   done   much,   simple   observation   would   tell   you   that   sevda   was   uncomfortable   and   danah   had   a   great   need   to   protect   others.   but   she   also   had   a   great   need   to   save   her   family   from   this   cult,   and   it   was   difficult   to   have   scripture   quoted   at   her,   she   knew   the   words   of   two   different   books   of   god,   and   those   words   buzzed   around   her   brain   all   day   every   day.   how   could   she   still   be   faithful   when   there   were   so   many   reasons   not   to   be?   sevda   spoke   so   much   truth   it   nearly   stung.   “it’s   a   lovely   thought,   that   everything   will   work   out,   but   peopel   are   going   to   get   hurt   in   the   process.”   she   said   softly,   trying   to   be   gentle   but   honest,   always   a   difficult   balance.   “and   i   do   know   what   you   mean   believe   it   or   not.   i   just   would   rather   put   my   faith   in   God   than   in   a   man,   a   man   like   pastor   north.   do   you   understand?"   

it’s easy to hide behind words that you have grown up to memorize, words that you are meant to follow without question, without hesitation. questioning would have the bias of being unfaithful, of not believing. so she shoved all the questions away, hide them behind the stars in the night sky, waited for them to peak out when no one else was around, so they can be free to be spoken. at this moment, those questions cannot be asked, cannot be heard. to stay hidden until the sun’s gaze falls and the moon rises. but the other, asking such a question like that. well. stars are still in the sky even when the sun’s bright light makes it appear otherwise. “ pastor north was -- is -- ” a quick correction, a misstep of words. “ -- a man of God. he does his best. sometimes, that’s enough to follow a person, to believe in them as you do in God. ” she paused there, trying to let her mind come up with what she must say, what she must believe, before speaking. “ i understand what you are trying to say. but i also believe that putting your faith in someone like pastor north is a bit... different than putting your faith in another. pastor north proclaims to be a prophet of God himself. ” proclaims. another misstep. does she believe that? does it even matter?

lucymaxwell​:

“Of course.” Lucy shrank back. “I’m sorry.” She’d tried to avoid getting too familiar with the rules of the church, as she did with everything related to it. Lucy was a smart girl, one who wasn’t easily convinced of things - that was was she told herself anyway. But Maggie? One of the smartest people she knew, perhaps not with a botany textbook but she had a sensible head and did she have convictions. And it still got to her. The point was, Lucy wasn’t all that well versed in the rules for what was and wasn’t allowed to be viewed, and the train of thought had made her feel even worse. “It’s okay to just browse.” She said. “Sometimes it’s just nice to know what movies are out there, even if you haven’t seen them. I’m like that about a lot of things. I’m just comforted to know things exist even if they’re strange to me.” Lucy said. She’d perhaps spoken a bit too much, and had no idea how this customer would interpret that.  “Oh, goodness, not everything, no.” Lucy shook her head in reassurance, seeming to have frightened the woman. “A lot, but there’s whole sections here I haven’t seen. I’ve got limited time: I’ll try anything, but if I hate something I’m not gonna sit it out. And I hate quite a lot.” She shrugged. “You don’t need to apologise. You weren’t being rude. Curse whoever decided a sincere emotion or honesty was considered rude.” She scoffed. “Not one?”

her head immediately shook in a silent no, not wanting the other to apologize --- not towards her. it was highly unnecessary, and besides it’s not as if the other was rude in this moment. while the church may approve on some material for viewing, sev’s father preferred for the young girl to not --- in his words --- see the temptations of media, not see a glimpse of something she was never to know about. all of this made her curious.

at least she has books. stories that her father may never know she has read, stories that others can tell her. and yet, still. it would be nice to see pictures dancing across a screen. she gave a smile towards the other, grateful towards their kindness. “ i like that, that’s a nice to view to have. the world is certainly a...strange place from time to time. just knowing... can be comforting. ” and it brings up desires she is never meant to be pursue, but she still stands by that. it’s nice to know. 

 “ oh, ” honestly that was a bit of relief. there were so many videos, movies out there. she just couldn’t imagine someone who has seen absolutely everything. “ what’s your favorite? i mean --- favorite movie or uh, favorite section? ” she liked listening to others talking about things that they enjoy. the passion they exhibit. “ my dad... kind of hates technology? ” which is very, very true unfortunately but perhaps that answers the question of why she hasn’t seen anything, even if it was approved by the church, by pastor north.

marin3tte​:

The pastor has officially gone missing, but her mind is blank. Her husband, veins pulsing from neck to forehead, has been searching for weeks, but her mind is blank. He seems so stressed, and he is really. He tells her in between thrusts. But her mind is blank. Rose tugs at her side and asks her what’s going on with Daddy. She asks where he’s been. Marnie tells her, and sadness crinkles her soft face.

Still — her mind is blank.

“Would you like some lemonade?”

Oh, that sounds good.

“Hi, Sevda,” her voices floats into air like smoke, “Why, yes. Doesn’t that just sound delightful on a day like this?”

.

there is so much to think about these days, so much pain --- arguing --- that has been occurring with the sudden disappearance of pastor north. unanswered questions that are longing to be known. distractions is what everyone needs these days, these moments of questions with no answers to be heard. it’s why she was content with the amount of chores her father piles on her, though she also suspects he does this in a way to keep her out of the way. not that sev is likely to participate in the loud quarrels of the elders in church. 

thankfully, it was too early for those disagreements to begin, and once they do whether it’s inside the church or not, sevda will be making herself scarce. but for now, talking with marnie is a wonderful distraction, a desired conversation to have.

“ it is quite hot. ” she commented, eyes moving up to the sun, a silent wish that it was the moon instead. “ come, i prepared it inside. i thought those traveling in the heat would want something refreshing. ” sevda leaned the broom carefully on the wall near the door, making a mental note to return to it after speaking with marnie. 

“ how are you today, mrs. scotts? how is rose? ”

location: fitzalan’s home closed for: @damnatiion​

sevda always found it difficult to keep up with noah. probably because he’s just a five year old boy who wants nothing more than to play and run or perhaps running is not an activity she does volunteering. sometimes she wonders if he was purposely trying to invade her when they are out and about. but at least he was happy, at least he had a huge smile on his face as the young boy played in the park. however as they are walking home, that smile has disappeared as the young boy starts dragging his feet. when she offered to carry him, he insisted he could walk himself. probably so he could walk, slower...and slower..

and just as she expected, he takes off running. giggling as he runs past her towards the door. it’s amazed her at how quickly their emotions can change in a span of a minute. the young boy reached up to the door, able to pull it open and darting inside, closing it behind him as he giggled the entire time. just in time for sev to reach the steps. well, at least he was happy once more and that was enough to bring a faded smile on her face. sev carefully opened it, peeking her head in. “ boo! ” another fit of giggles from the kid as she swung the door fully open, another reason for her own smile to take it’s place on her face.

“ mrs. fitzalan. i believe noah may have a serious case of the giggles today. ”

supcrncva​:

   eyes   glazed   over   as   she   spoke,   such   a   delicate   little   thing,   reminding   danah   more   and   more   of   her   youngest   sister.   perhaps   she   knew   danah’s   sisters,   they’d   be   around   her   age,   and   part   of   the   cult   too.   would   it   be   rude   to   ask?   would   she   care?   “that’s   not   —   that’s   not   what   i   asked.”   she   said   quietly,   frustratedly.   she   wondered   if   the   audience   was   the   issue   and   took   several   steps   away   from   the   rest   of   them,   dragging   the   girl   with   her   with   a   soft   hand   on   her   back.   she   stopped   touching   her   immediately,   even   the   leading   felt   like   a   violation   and   she   was   the   one   doing   it.   “sorry,   i   should   have   asked   before   i   did   that   but   you   seemed   uncomfortable   so   i   just,   well   at   least   now   it’s   just   you   and   me.   i   swear   we’ve   met   before,   you   just   look   so   familiar.   “i’m   danah   and   to   be   very   honest   quoting   scripture   doesn’t   tell   anyone   why   you’re   so   faithful.   it’s   someone   else’s   thoughts,   someone   else’s   words.   what   do   YOU   feel?   what   do   YOU   think?”   

is this the hell that’s doomed to follow for all those who don’t repent? it’s certainly feeling like it. people looking at her in this light, the whispers that she can’t make out. it was so, very uncomfortable. she opened her mouth to respond but as she was about to, the other started dragging her away and her personal hell was pushed to the side, shoved away from her mind. sev may feel the eyes from all those who bother to continue lingering but being in the center of all that? at least that pressure was taken away. “ no.. um. thank you. ” she, very much, was uncomfortable. there was gratitude towards the other for at least bringing them away from the eyes of many. “ i don’t believe we have? i’m sevda. ” she can’t recall meeting the other, perhaps they had and she forgot? it was quite likely but that’s alright. at least they have met now. “ sometimes... scripture just.... gives you words that you don’t know how to put into words? ” she wonders if that makes sense, it barely made sense to her. but at least that was true. scripture had words for when she could think of none. “ i... suppose i believe that things will work out. it may take more time than we wish, but i believe in Him and i believe that He has a plan. this just, is...just one that many do not understand, ”  like so many others.

laura-rashidi​:

Location: Hillary’s Grill steps When: June 2021 Who: Anyone! Laura finally had a break and she was not spending it inside. The old jail just had bad mojo sometimes from past altercations and things that had happened a century ago when it had been the local jail and sometimes she just needed to ground herself elsewhere.

She took a deep breath as she breathed in the warm, humid June air, hearing the bigs and feeling the energy of the town on the wind. It was heavy, like it had been since Pastor Noah North went missing, but that wasn’t surprising. The locals may not like it but the congregation had a big impact on Holy Cross.  Knowing some people wouldn’t approve but didn’t care anyway, she took out her vape and began smoking, breathing it in and trying to breathe out the bad energy via the smoke as she idly checked her phone notifications.

Someone came up to the grill steps and more out of habit than genuine interest, she smiled and said, “Welcome to Hillary’s Grill! My other hostess will take you to your table and serve you until my break ends.” 

–

eyes skim across the pages what feels to be a thousand of times, the same words being read over and over again. where was the waitress and how long has she been sitting here? usually the only times sevda found herself in this establishment were when the church decides to go out after a mass or prayer. never has she found herself there, utterly alone and utterly lost despite knowing where she was and surrounded by strangers. 

still, even when she was with the church on busy afternoons, it never felt as though service took this long. perhaps... they have forgotten about her? perhaps it was a sign that she should just return home, or go back to the church and listen to the sounds of disagreements that dangerously cross the lines of arguments... just thinking about that is what fuels sevda to stand and try to find someone to speak to. someone who may be able to help her order? 

but she still doesn’t want to be an inconvenience… which is probably why she decided that enough was enough. perhaps those inside were just too busy, and well, one last customer won’t be a big deal. besides, she needs to get on with her chores. before her father finds that she was slacking off.

so she slipped away, leaving without making much noise and just trying to avoid anyone but somehow she must have made a wrong turn somewhere, ending up at the grill. she must have lingered a bit too long, curious about what the other was doing. “ oh… sorry. i was just -- uh, leaving. ”