( sinqua walls, he/him ) heaven’s gates open to you, [ foster strickland ]. on earth, you are a [ thirty six ] year old [ cis man ]. in the great fellowship, you are immortal. together, you work with your family as [ a runner ] of [ the farm ]. you will be embraced, and your faults are made non existent. you are the embodiment of [ aching legs sprinting across dry dirt, heart thudding with the pounding of feet, soft smiles shared with loved ones, and daydreams that never seem to end ]. ( maric, 21+, cst, he/him, n/a )
foster’s lived a relatively normal life. he was born in nebraska city on a farm that his parents ran and operated. he literally grew up shucking corn, and he loved every second of it. the farm life was definitely for him. he liked the great outdoors; he liked working with his hands. he liked being with his family.
that all changed when they had to sell the farm. his paternal grandma, who lived in mississippi, came down with an illness, and foster and his family, having almost nothing left, decided to move down there with her. maureen strickland was grateful for the influx of people, and she all forced them to take her to church every sunday where foster and his family were finally introduced to alastair cross.
when maureen passed away, alastair showed them love and made her funeral bearable in their time of grief. foster and his family took to alastair with kindness, but when the holy house was built, foster lost a bit of faith in alastair. he’d listened to cult podcasts before, and it was a little suspicious. still, he didn’t want to leave his family behind, so he traveled to the holy house with them. now, he keeps his doubts under wraps. no sense in stirring the pot. alastair hasn’t done anything too strange.
