RIVER.
[ CHAPTER ONE: (RUM)BLE ]
❝ DROP(S) OF RUM ON MY
TONGUE AND BLEEDING LUNGS! ❞

The sole purpose of Alejandra Salvador's creation was for pure tragedy. The whole holy path of becoming the great savior was simply a cover for the true intentions of her fate, a cheap religious propaganda to simply please the hopeless society in a dark world full of pain searching for some type— any type —of salvation.

The hunger for prosperity, for a little taste of heaven, was strong within the hearts and souls of the humans. They preached, they prayed, they slaughtered, they conquered, they did anything they could to catch the attention of their almighty lord. And one day He answered to their prayers. But as all knowledgeable people know He does not give simply because you asked Him for it.

One day when a prophet of the lord spoke the words of the angels above of the plan to bring a savior to the world people were overjoyed and utterly thrilled. They had finally gotten one of their prayers answered. Or so they had thought. What they had received was a savior, yes, He never went against His word, but the savior was not for them. The savior was meant for a story, a lesson to teach the weak minded and the brilliant, a tale that would last for eons. God had given his people a hero and now he was going to write a tragedy.

Life is much like a game and a story. Some will lose and some will win. There will be tales of happiness and others of catastrophe. The world is a painting of grays, never black or white, never right or wrong. Everything is balanced and sometimes God likes to test those balances and see how far it can be overturned. Alejandra was essentially the main character in His story and He was sure going to write the greatest tale ever for her. One full of pain, devastation, beauty, hope, and love. A tragic bittersweet gospel.

The hopeless savior's once ichor filled veins turned to nothing but rivers of bronze liquor filled with an eternity of regret. Those fierce bright eyes that held a land of a victorious prosperous kingdom had all burnt down, ash and ruins were all that was left and the silent cries of the once gracious heroine. Bad blood rippled through her heart like a curse. Defeat had broken Alejandra to the core. The darkness engulfed her and eventually her spark had burnt out.

There was no more glory in her soul and no more gold in her heart. It was a just a distant memory, a lost dream of what she use to be. Nothing but useless flesh and bone.

The broken woman spent her lonely days at the notorious strip club in Mexico known as the Titty Twister. The culebras and Alejandra had made a non-spoken agreement long ago when she had finally given up. She would provide security and coverage for them so the outside world wouldn't know of their existence.

In return, they would give her the whole bar for the rest of her life. It was her own personal living hell and yet she expected it. Alejandra believed that if she couldn't die then she would let herself suffer for all the mistakes she had done in her life. It didn't make up a single sliver of what she's done but it was a start. To her, it was better than nothing.

Alejandra sat sluggishly on the old wooden stool at the end of the bar with one hand holding a glass of rum and the other laying limp on the counter. The rest of the bar counter was covered with multiple empty glasses. They all sparkled every time the lights would shine on them.

The sight reminded her of the good old days when Carlos and her would stay up late at night just to see the stars twinkle. Tú es mi estrella magnífica, he would always say on those nights. You are my magnificent star. Sadly that magnificent star burnt out. Nothing but a piece of tar black rock floating in oblivion.

"I couldn't help but notice how lonely you look here sitting by yourself chica," a man's voice made its way to Alejandra's ear. Despite all the ruckus around her, the loud music being played from the band on stage, the wolf whistles of men cheering on the strippers, and the thought of her Carlitos clouding her mind, she could hear him clearly.

His voice was filled with pride, it almost made her choke. But she had become use to men like him. Every single day of her miserable life men like him would try to swoon her with their so called charms and flashy smiles. It never worked. She knew their games all to well. And they would never be the man she wanted, the man she loved. They would never be her Carlos.

"Lo siento," — I'm sorry, Alejandra croaked out just loud enough for him to hear. "No hablo inglés," — I don't speak english, she continued her charade while keeping her eyes glued on the rack of alcohol in front of her and her glass of rum close to her chapped lips. She never bothered to look at the men that came to her. It was a pointless.

As she gulped down the rest of her drink she heard him snicker. "Ah come on," he edged on with his proposal. "I know the 'No hablo ingles' trick. Let me at least buy you a drink."

Alejandra grumbled lowly, if he didn't shut up the bartender would start— "All of her drinks are on the house gringo, go away." Too late. The cursed savior placed her now empty glass down with her hand now tightly gripping it and casted a quick glare at the man behind the counter. Every night this would happen and she was getting tired of it. The latina woman debated on whether she should kill him or not. But then again, if he was killed who would make her drinks?

"Puedo manejarlo," Alejandra growled at the bartender behind the counter. I can handle him, she repeated in her native tongue, yet, the culebra bartender didn't make a move to leave her alone.

"Entonces manejarlo." — Then handle him, the creature grunted before going back to cleaning the glass cups by the rest of the liquor.

Usually, Alejandra wouldn't care what they said, hell she didn't even pay attention to anything. But this cabrón pushed her off the edge. The glass cup in her hand suddenly shattered into tiny little pieces and scattered, some falling onto the floor and others spreading over the counter. Liquid soon oozed out of her clamped up hand and began to drip from her fingers. It didn't even sting her.

"¡Vete a la mierda, pinche cabrón!" — Go to hell, fucking asshole, Alejandra screamed with rage. She couldn't take it anymore. It had all overflowed past the max in her bottled up emotions. The culebras, Santanico, Carlos, the murders, the blood, the screams, the fucking bartender, it was all too much to take and try to find some place to shove it in and forget about it.

Alejandra repeatedly banged her fists on the counter until her hands were both bleeding. This was her one of her first breakdowns in months and it was all because of some pendejo that wanted to buy her a drink. Fucking men, they ruined everything for her. God, Carlos, the bartender, the pendejo, they all fucked her over. At least she had scared off the pendejo. Or so she had thought.

She could still feel his presence— quite literally. Being the savior of man kind came with its certain special abilities. One being the sense of presence, the sense of feeling and seeing the aura and the soul within. That power was how Alejandra had deciphered if a person was human or not. The man's soul had screamed human the second he had sat down on the bar stool next to her.

It was a muffled painful scream, a cry for help that was being choked down with so much strength it was if Pride was the one responsible for it. But the man's aura said otherwise, he did not have the dark black smoke of a demon, one of the seven deadly sins known as Pride was not possessing this man. Although it seemed unlikely considering the fact of what his soul was saying.

That was the hardship of having the power to sense others' souls. It pained her to listen to them knowing that they were suffering on the inside and she could do nothing about it. This specific man (Seth Gecko, the voices of his inner self scream out to her) was not the first poor soul she had come across and sadly he certainly wouldn't be the last.

Alejandra tried to block the screams of agony by grabbing another cup of alcohol that was by her side with her bloody hand and gulped it down, but like always it never helped. She absolutely hated her so called gift, it was a huge invasion of privacy and it hurt her. It was wrong to feel and listen in to others' souls. She had no right to, it was none of her business.

As much as she wanted it to stop it would never. It was like a broken radio dialed up on full volume that could never be shut off. It kept her up most nights, but then again it didn't really matter to her sleeping schedule since she had none. The poor woman never slept. How could she? The guilt and regret would never let her rest.

"Ya know, you could use some unwinding," the man spoke again once he had scooted his stool closer to her's. His rough lips brushed against her ear while his hot thick breath smothered the right side of her face. It wasn't warm and soft like when Carlos would jokingly kiss her on the cheek during patrols and make her insides ignite with volcanic eruptions. His breath bothered her, it was sickening and sticky like when one of the sweaty strippers tried to give her a lap dance.

Letting out a heavy exasperated sigh Alejandra calmly placed her glass cup down and lightly cracked her neck. Not even a second later the man was on the floor gripping the front of his face and groaning in pain. Alejandra had full forcefully headbutted the fucking pendejo.

"Ya know, you could use some unwinding," Alejandra mocked the man with her face still emotionless. After the latina woman gave a quick cold glance at the man to see his surprised facial features she quickly got up from her stool and fled the scene, leaving behind the very flabbergasted conman on the floor.

Alejandra didn't have time for some prideful criminal, she actually had some work to do. Another savior was starting their path and Alejandra definitely did not want to let this one fuck up like she did. This was her one and final chance to do something good in her life. To redeem herself, maybe not, but to raise hope for the world, maybe yes.

A couple months back Alejandra had felt something was off, something had changed. Maybe it was the rum. Maybe it was the bar stool. She didn't know what was up, that is until she started getting flashes of a certain man in her mind. They weren't visions per say, she wasn't a psychic, they were more like memories of sorts popping up in her mind. Like watching a tv show in her head of one man's life.

A man named Freddie González.

— NOT EDITED
WORD COUNT: 2,109
— okay so at first i wanted alejandra to be a spanish woman and change the face claim but then i realized what was i thinking. so i've decided to make her mexican and keep lindsey as the face claim. i know y'all are probably wondering, but alejandra was born in spain, saray. well, yes, spainish is her nationality, but her race/ethnicity is of mexican decent. but how, saray? mexico wasn't even discovered before alejandra was born, mexico was discovered when she was in her twenties. well, you'll just have to keep on reading this story to find out more about alejandra and her hidden past. ooh spooky jajajajaja not really.

[ DEDICATED TO eIevens BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ICYSS! YOU ARE MY WORLD AND I'M SO HAPPY TO CALL YOU MY FRIEND! YOU ARE SO AMAZING IN EVERY WAY! ]