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@prophetallen-blog
This is ugly because it’s 7 am and I’m mobile but I’m sorry for not being around these past couple days. My own brain has been kicking my ass, and this morning I found out my dad is in the emergency room and i have job orientation SO, life continues to kick my ass a little more. But i promise I’m gonna try and do at least a singular reply tonight, if nothing else okay xoxo love u
augustusstirk:
he couldn’t help but trail his eyes down to that hip, up again across the small expanse of exposed skin, then to the preacher’s face. he saw that look of knowing on chris’s expression and for once august didn’t mind being bested. he almost didn’t hear what the blonde had to say about god, mind so intensely focused on the way he stretched and exposed even more of his skin and hips. augustus blinked a few times, letting chris take his joint while he tried to think of something to say. “then it’s just group therapy led by an unlicensed psychiatrist,” he said with a laugh. “it’s not even christianity. why even bother toting around a bible?” august’s eyes are caught once again as chris leans his head back to blow smoke towards the ceiling, throat long and exposed. “it’s sort of dark if you ever want to have sex,” he hummed, raising his eyebrows as he joined the preacher in stretching out on the bed, plucking his joint back once again. “i’m a weed connoisseur you know. i could teach you how to get the very best high.”
“Started out a little different. I reckon the further away I got from my preacher, the more different it ended up. He doesn’t seem too upset about it, though. I still keep in touch. He’s thinkin’ about coming out here someday, see what I’ve done.” Chris shrugged. In all reality, he pulled the facade simply because it was what he was used to. Now wasn’t the time for him to unload a life story, though, so he simply fell back onto his back, letting his eyes flutter closed. In the beginning, he’d done this much more often. He’d stay in hotels and motels, find people in bars or in the lobby, and share intimate moments like this, where the religion was hardly the selling point. It was moments like this he felt normal again, and he missed it. Opportunities for this were more rare at the Starlit, simply because he was older, he knew better, and he was more established than he had been in his rambling days. “Is that so?” Chris hummed, eyes opening just enough to squint over at his counterpart. “Never did much of it, myself. Dabbled a little when I was young, but it wasn’t about getting the best of it, I reckon.” He was quiet for a moment, his smile growing. “Could never hurt to learn a little, though.”
tsvndre:
sermon. a word now so diluted of substance. to hale it flags aimilessly like a lone swatch of fabric snagged by the breeze. HE, the godless son of the faithless — in a way he’s thankful his parents had never been believers themselves, even if the result seems to leave their own personal lives in a wreckage he doesn’t care enough to navigate. ❛ right… well that’s an interesting strategy you got there anyhow — i always thought you guys wore all black because white’s the POPE’S colour. ❜ JESTFUL, although his features don’t show it.
“Could be,” Chris’ smile grows, even at the deadpan expression of his counterpart. “I reckon I wear it because it symbolizes a sort of death. Death of innocence, of pain and suffering. Some people might say it’s because I’m just the opposite of what they expect a preacher to be.” He offers a shrug and licks his lips. “I’m not exactly cookie cutter, y’know.” He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the indifference that makes him want to reach out and reveal his secrets.
mcxey:
@prophetallen!
he rolls the cigarette between his fingertips, watching the tendrils of smoke curl off the end and carry upwards towards the lightening sky. it’s the early morning hours during which most regularly functioning people are sleeping with a select few ambitious individuals rousing themselves for the day. for kit, however, it’s the end of a long shift and the beginning of a wind down that’s turned into somewhat of a routine. for someone who spends most of his time being ogled and on display, kit moxey is a solitary soul so why he finds himself hanging out with chris more mornings than he doesn’t quite understand himself. still, he’s not inclined to turn him away and he holds out the cig to the other in offering. “how was your sermon?” he asks, remnant wisps of exhaled smoke sneaking out from parted lips.
It’s not every night that he has a fair crowd for his congregation. On most occasions, it’s usually two or three. Somehow, though. Chris had managed to bring himself and five other individuals into his room for one of his sermons. It wasn’t a secret anymore, at least not between him and the younger male. Of course, it was likely no secret to his neighbors, either, considering the volume that could come of them. He’d met with the younger male as he led the last of his followers from the room, offering a quick kiss to their forehead before settling into the usual routine. “Successful,” Chris chuckles, giving a nod of thanks as he reaches out to take one long drag from the cigarette before returning it. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if Davie isn’t at my door with a noise complaint.”
augustusstirk:
“i try to be kind and share, and this is what i get?” he mumbled around a joint he’d already fished out. august wanted to just mellow out after the night he’d had, running around the entire festival completely sober. this was a strange enough situation to be in, he decided why not be high for it. he took a long drag once the paper caught, taking it between two fingers to blow it up towards the motel room’s ceiling. “i really don’t understand what it is you preach,” he said with a shake of his head, appreciating the soft buzz he already had going in his head. augustus’s gaze wandered over to the preacher, really taking him in for the first time without letting any bias cloud his vision. if he were being honest and removed chris from his profession, he’d find the preacher rather attractive. it helped that his shirt had come undone and a tattoo that normally would have been hidden away was peeking out. “but what about those who aren’t in the congregation? are they your family yet?” he asked after a second puff, holding the joint out as an offer to chris.
Chris simply offered a mischievous grin and a shrug, falling back to stretch out across the bed. Of course, it only made the hem of his shirt ride up slightly, exposing part of one of his hips beneath his slacks. He looked messy, and it was clear that, in this moment, he was messy. It was a rarity for anyone to see him like this, let alone a stranger. Still, part of him didn’t feel the guilt that he was sure would hit him tomorrow–tonight was a celebration, he didn’t have to be prim and proper. “I reckon you could call it self-love, something along those lines. I show people that there doesn’t need to be some magical force claiming to be a God. God is inside us, you just have to press the right buttons to find him. Everyone has God in them.” he stretched once again and let out a yawn, but quickly shifted to his elbows as the joint was offered to him. “Plenty of folks who live here aren’t a part of my congregation,” he mimicked Augustus’ movements, taking in a long drag and exhaling towards the ceiling. “Doesn’t make ‘em any less family, to me. On some level, we’re all family, I reckon. Even strangers.”
rick-dahlstrom:
Rick was one to keep his head down ever since he was young, after he had passed the phase of trying to rebel his life away and run around like he knew everything with kids who were terrible influences on him. After his train accident, beyond being a very truant child in high school, he had never gotten into any kind of trouble that would bring an extreme amount of attention to him. Hell, while he had been in the higher rankings of the army, and well-respected, met a fair share of leaders, his last year had been spent as a wardog, which meant his name became nothing more than a ghost- whispered about but never really confirmed to be real. That fact alone had set that part of his life to be concrete- in all his relationships where he felt belittled, abused, it only became more concrete in his personality. When he wanted to be heard, he would be heard, but otherwise, he wished nothing more than to lay low- that way, if he disappeared, then that was that. He would simply be gone into the wind and no one would ever miss him, not for a second. The thought crossed his mind, briefly, to be paired with something darker, and a frown crossed his face briefly as he lingered upon it. He wondered if he would need to up his antidepressants soon. Something, anything. Shaking the thought from his mind and smiling at the other man politely, he replied, “Yeah, I figured. You were here when I moved in last January.” He was observant. Too observant. Picking apart every detail and analyzing it, tearing it to shreds. That was what he did best. Chris’ chuckle caused him to smirk, joking offhandedly, “If ya ever lose me in a crowd, all ya gotta do is find Jesus, as my friend says.” Flicking his fingers absently as he spoke, he shrugged his shoulders slightly. Rick’s drawl was not nearly as eloquent as Chris’- while it was faintly laced with a Swedish accent, it was the accent of a man who grew up as trash on the streets of Sweden. Gritty and a little rasping at times, if only for his former drug abuse. “Not at all,” he replied with a shake of his head, gesturing and heading out the door, holding it open for him politely, before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Blacks, removing two cigarettes and offering one to him. Putting his own between his lips, he held his Zippo out to Chris first to light his cigarette before lighting his own, leaning against the wall and scanning the horizon. “Gotta say I miss th’ winter already.” Didn’t help that he wore a hoodie over his clothes all the fucking time. “This heat is fuckin’ disgustin’.”
It was clear that they both had a penchant for finding themselves too far in their own heads, but neither would acknowledge it. In all reality, Chris respected it. He didn’t know Rick well, obviously, but the preacher had a way of feeling when someone seemed to be broken inside, and this man fit the bill–then again, Chris fit the bill just as well himself. Chris was just as broken as the people he wanted to save, but he’d work on himself last. For now, the young prophet was content to kill his thoughts with cigarettes, sex, and a fair amount of alcohol. “Been here about four years, now. Nice and cozy. Could probably stay another four if I really wanted to,” the younger male let out a chuckle, shrugging. He followed Rick outside and was thankful as he lit the cigarette. “Can’t say I agree with you there, but hey, to each his own,” Chris laughed once more, exhaling a cloud of smoke easily into the warm air. His own wardrobe was clearly not fit for Nevada weather, but somehow he managed. “I reckon I occasionally miss havin’ real seasons, but I was never much a fan of the cold. Prefer it to be a little brisk, but not much on snow or anything like that.” Trekking back and forth to the church in the snow had been his least favorite thing as a child, and even now he hated to think about it. “I do agree with you that it’s too damn hot, though.”
augustusstirk:
“mm, no. maybe it’s more like a stack of bibles i’m afraid of,” he replied. augustus was momentarily startled by the laugh, although it drew a soft one out of him. he turned towards the desk, slowly pacing over and perusing the alcohol. he picked a dark bottle of bourbon, glancing around for a glass. he wandered into the kitchenette and pulled out one of the complimentary glasses davie kept giving them all. he poured himself a few fingers. “i suppose since it’s your own, i should ask you if you’d like a glass.” he took a sip, nodding slightly at the taste, deciding it was better than he’d expected. “i like the dark stuff. tequila makes it harder to think. i like to think whiskey makes it easier.” august went ahead and poured chris a drink as well, although he gave him far less. “only way i can pay you back is cigarettes or a joint,” he added as he joined the preacher on the bed, passing over his glass before taking another sip of his own. “you never answered my comment about the nickname thing. why do you call everyone brother or sister?”
Chris’ room wasn’t terribly unique, even after living at the Starlit for so long. He’d convinced Davie to let him hang a small cross above the bed–albeit with the fancy pull off tabs. Papers were scattered about, along with his own personal belongings, but it was nothing particularly to write home about. Chris didn’t need his sanctuary to be fancy by any means, and the less cluttered it was, the easier it was to conduct his more lengthy sermons. It was clear that he didn’t need any more to drink, but he was thankful that Augustus poured him one anyway. “I’d never say no to a drink, brother,” the words are thick on his tongue, and he laughs once more. It’s a bit of his younger self showing–shirt unbuttoned, tattoo exposed, and a sloppy grin on his face. He almost feels young again, just for a night. “No need to pay me back. I got plenty of booze to share,” he hummed, reaching over to one of the bedside drawers and pulling out a small baggie of pre-rolled joints. “Pretty set on the other side, too.” He took the glass and inhaled deeply for a moment before nearly chugging the entire thing, only to place it gently on the side table. “Dunno. Guess I started somewhere along the line, then just kept doing it. Makes it feel like we’re a family, y’know. My family wasn’t all that great, but havin’ family anywhere I go makes it not so bad.”
sabrinasno:
she was first appalled by the bible and all of that shit⏤but bourbon, how could a girl say no ? she stepped forward, giving the man a skeptical look before taking the flask. she takes a swig of the strong alcohol and hums as it runs smoothly down her throat. she hands it back and nods. “ not bad jesus lover. ” she teased. she had seen this man a lot around at starlit. in just the year she had been there, she saw how many visitors he got. she knew he had his demons, didn’t we all ? but there was no way she trusting him more than what was in his flask, that’s for sure. she didn’t fuck with religion. literally. “ got much business today ? ” she asked, not caring whether it was sensitive information or not.
At least she wasn’t completely appalled by him. Then again, he figured you’d be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t drink around Starlit. If you were living in a place like this, chances were that you had a fair amount of sorrows to drown, even if it was more rare for some than others. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the nickname, but in all reality, he’d been called worse. Not to mention, the bourbon helped in keeping him relatively chilled out. “Not today, no,” he shrugged, taking another swig for himself before capping the flask. “Can’t win ‘em all, though, I reckon.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why? You thinkin’ of attendin’ a sermon?” his brows raised in an almost teasing manner.
ephvmerals:
If she hadn’t been grasping the bottle of wine in her hand, Samara would have probably asked him for a sip out of his flask but she didn’t want to come off as selfish. “Not at all. I have a deep appreciation for all types of alcohol. A special one for bourbon, though,” she mused. “My dad is a bit of a connoisseur. He knows all the boring histories and types. I never understood the fascination growing up but I guess there’s a hobby for everybody.”
“Well I sure couldn’t tell you nothin’ like that, but I know it tastes good,” Chris laughed, shrugging. He took another long gulp from the flask, humming as he let it slightly burn the back of his throat. It was probably more than he needed at the moment, but he tended to be a bit of a glutton when it came to the bottle. “I prefer dark liquors. Bourbon and whiskey. Not much of an expert, but I know what I like, I reckon. What gets the job done.”
lcsbicas:
oh, christ ( quite literally ) the bible isn’t just an ironic choice. “well, his son had a bit of a wine obsession,” she says, not having much of an opinion on the matter on account of her flaming atheism that her avó never approved of, so simply offering what she knows to be in the bible, in a rather deadpan tone. bringing her cigarette to her lips, she can’t help but think that god surely wouldn’t be proud of a hollowed out bible being used for such a thing, nor would be overly judgement-free when it came to the matter at hand, but hazel tells herself it’s not her problem. “’the big man’ probably wouldn’t be so secretive about it.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling a lighter from his pocket to flick idly and keep his hands busy as the buzz set in from his bourbon. “I reckon he wouldn’t have to be. His reputation pretty well holds itself up, now, don’t it?” the preacher simply shrugged, head tilted in curiosity at her. He wasn’t in any place to sell her on religion–not when he used it as a facade more than anything else. “Men like me aren’t so lucky to have everybody knowin’ our name. Even in a place like this, I bet you could find plenty of people who got no idea who I am.”
tsvndre:
❛ so you only do this at night. ❜ he ought to find that POETIC. he really should, but he’s starting to find the cloak of darkness settling over everything so that SOME can find the romance in it overrated. he’s never been one for that anyway, he ends up leaving gardens of roses in ASH and shards of glass everytime he tries. ❛ because these people are only alive at night? or because YOU are? ❜
“I hold my sermons at night. Once people learn what they’re in for, sometimes they prefer it. Bit of anonymity, I reckon.” He shrugs in response, sloshing some of the bourbon around in his flask. “Usually go out during the day, see who will stop and listen, grab a couple who agree to swing by once the sun goes down. Dusk is the best time, though. More people agree to be whisked away by a man in all black with the promise of something better at that hour–couldn’t tell you why.” He knew he was inviting more questions, but Chris wasn’t in any mood to be properly preaching his gospel–he doubted someone so skeptical would be easy to pull in, anyway.
augustusstirk:
“no, i suppose i do not.” he stopped in front of the door he’d seen the preacher come out of so many times. “i’m almost afraid of what i’ll find in there,” august admitted quietly, glancing over to the drunk. when it was clear chris had forgotten how to unlock a door or just didn’t want to, he said fuck it to personal space and dipped his hand in the pocket that looked more likely to have a set of keys in it. he fished them out and unlocked the motel room door, shoving it open with one arm while his other was occupied by the preacher. “i think it’s interesting that you call everyone brother or sister, even if they aren’t in your congregation.” he hesitated in the doorway for a moment before leading chris inside instead of just shoving him in and shutting the door. “depends on what kind of liquor you have,” he hummed, rolling his eyes as he took a sip from the cup he’d stolen only a moment ago. he flinched at the taste.
“You think I might be some crazy satan-lover, hiding behind a preacher’s mask?” Chris couldn’t help but laugh, loud and boisterous despite the time of night. It was a laugh you wouldn’t expect from someone of his stature and weight class–a loud, heavy sounding guffaw, followed by a snort of incredulity. Chris was far too concerned with the conversation to fish for his keys, and he more than welcomed the touch that came along with Augustus’ hand in his pocket. Perhaps that was simply what he was craving–touch. His congregation was one thing; the touches that came from those late nights were almost boring to him sometimes. He wanted to enjoy the touch for the intimacy for once, and not because he felt as if he needed to save someone. Chris made his way to the bed in the sparsely decorated room, aside from a cross that adorned one of the walls. The most exciting part was the desk, littered with bottles of dark colored liquor. “Bourbon and whiskey, mostly,” he shrugged with a smile. “Might have some tequila somewhere if that’s more your thing, brother.”
