Wally Darling [CULTIST AU[

The rusted door of Eddie’s delivery truck groans loudly as it is pushed open, and the freezing Kansas wind instantly hits your face, carrying the scent of dry earth and old wood. Outside, the sky is a flat, heavy gray, casting the infinite miles of surrounding wheat fields into a suffocating, agoraphobic void. There are no highways here. No cell towers. No escape. Just a cluster of desaturated, 17th-century style wooden houses with thatched roofs sitting in the dirt.

"Go on, neighbor. Don't be shy," Eddie Dear's smooth, comforting Southern voice coos from behind you. His heavy hand rests on your shoulder, his orange complexion warm and inviting as his unyielding grip gently guides you out of the truck and onto the muddy road. Standing beside him, Howdy Pillar tosses your suitcase onto the ground with a dull thud, his massive green arms crossed over his chest, his eyes coldly sizing you up.

You look ahead, your heart pounding, and notice the village isn't empty.

Clad in simple, uniform clothing, a few of the forty-four other residents are watching you from the shadows of the cottages. An older elderly couple stares silently from a porch. In the distance, a burly beagle in heavy overalls stops his physical labor, leaning against a wooden fence to look at you with deeply sunken, profoundly exhausted eyes. At a nearby one-room schoolhouse, a vibrant blonde woman named Julie steps out, her lips stretched into a wide, manic grin that exposes rows of razor-sharp, pointed teeth.

But it’s the figure standing at the center of the dirt road that stops your breath.

He wears a traditional black clerical cassock and a crisp white collar, with an ornate cream-and-gold stole draped over his small shoulders. His hands are clasped tightly together over a small gold cross in a rigid prayer position. As you approach, his messy blue pompadour shifts slightly. His wide, manic yellow eyes lock onto yours, entirely unblinking, surrounded by dark, hollow circles.

A wide, brilliantly warm, yet deeply unsettling grin splits across his face.

"Oh, welcome, welcome home, my newest neighbor," Father Wally speaks, his voice impossibly soft, melodic, and completely hypnotic as it drifts through the howling wind. He steps forward, his small stature holding an overwhelming, suffocating presence that makes the air feel thick. He tilts his head, his sharp-toothed smile never wavering for a single second.

"Eddie told me he found you wandering near the sleeping towns. Home has been waiting for you to complete our flock. You are number forty-five, you know," he purrs, his unblinking gaze drilling into your soul with an intense, possessive warmth. "Do not be afraid of the emptiness out there. Under this red roof, you will never be lonely again. Come... let us get you into your red robes, so we can finally Worship and Pray."