Disclaimer: Don't own Soul Eater or the shows wonderful characters
Authors Note: Hello everyone, Vintage Rose Theory here, with another fanfic. (And the longest Authors note I have ever written) I had never been familiar with soul eater until I saw it on netflicks, and let me tell you I am hooked! The story line was amazing and I fell in love with all the Characters and marveled at how complex and well thought out their personalities were. And so I decided to write this fanfic. First of all, I am a prologue girl, I don't know why? But I always seem to write one before I begin with the first chapter. Second of all, rating wise this story will be rated mature for cursing and possible gore in later chapters just wanted to give anyone who's squeamish on both of these areas the heads up so you won't be so surprised. I don't plan on making this a long story, since the inspiration came pretty abruptly, but I do hope you read and enjoy, and finally I haven't seen all of the seasons yet, so pleases, please, please don't razz at me to harshly if I don't get something that has to do with the show right, but also reviews are always welcomed (I am so contradicting myself) but enough of my long winded authors note, please enjoy the fanfic, and like always blessings my dear readers! :D
Prologue: La Catrina
Rosario preferred the moist hot weather. "It helped the voice come out smoother," she would tell her band mates, especially Joe the trumpet player, who would roll his eyes and flex his dark pudgy pudding fingers and blow out a long snorted note, his hair catapulting droplets of sweat from his matted black hair, as Rosario and the band continued with their practice. They had to be in rare form tonight, because tonight was Dia de los Muretos. And the small mariachi band that consisted of, Miguel, Joe, Carlos, Kike, and Rosario had to out shine the other seasoned Mariachi bands if they wanted to eat good that night, or sit down to another hearty meal of frosted flakes.
"You know the reason why we never make good money?" snorted Joe the self-proclaimed leader, "It's because we have a women as a singer, do you see any other serious bands around you that dose?" he waved a pudgy hand motioning to the other Mariachis which consisted solely of men littered around the plaza the night before. A gaggle of people surrounded each one of them as they lilted warm melodies with their soft baritone voices causing an avalanche of money thrown by swooning fans to rain on them. While Rosario and the others sat around the fountain, their instruments untouched; eating the cold greasy potato tacos Miguel had brought earlier that morning.
"Let them enjoy this moment," Miguel spoke through mouthfuls. "We have an ace up our sleeves, you see those seasoned singers are actually old hat," Miguel's green eyes glowed mischievously as ran a single finger in a cutting motion across his thick neck. "Their boring, drab, soon to be forgotten, but this little canary here," he grabbed Rosario's knee and squeezed it, "Is soon going to get us out of the financial doldrums to a far better place. I was able to pull a couple of strings and booked us a gig at "La Catrina"; the owner said he wanted to hear something fresh and new. "And boy do we have it here." He gave Rosario's knee a little pat before rising.
"Everyone meets at eight, dress in whatever nice rags you have. Rosario, dress in that nice little dress I got you, you know one that makes you look like the Selma Hayek version Frida Kahlo, because tonight, were going to make the money flow.
The time was 7:30pm and Rosario was going to be late, she knew she was. La Catrina was near the plaza far away from Rosario's little apartment building called Los Brazos located at the end of town. But he, (he looked like a he) was following her again, so she had to take the extra-long route, that cut through the small laundry pond in the woods to confuse him or it. Rosario ran, her leather sandals wet from her plodding through the pond, cut at her feet as she ran out of the dark woods and onto the dirt road that led to the plaza. Rosario could see the lights coming from the plaza; they glowed and pulsated eerily as if they had a life of their own.
With only the moon as her light, Rosario ran in a light sprint across the lonely empty road, tripping occasionally on lose pebbles. It had been a two weeks that she noticed him; he would stand right across her apartment building and watch her. She knew he was, she felt his eyes crawling around her body. The whatever it was, was very tall and very lanky, the name El Flaco came to mind when Rosario was observing him one exceptionally hot summer night when she couldn't sleep. She peered through the gauzy fabric of her curtains, and noticed El Flaco wore black, not just his clothes, but everywhere from head to even his face was covered in black making him look like a paper cutout as he stood in front of the many white clay colored houses, the only thing that stood out however, were his eyes that glowed light blue. Did anyone ever notice him, how could they not notice the giant figure that stood out like a dark column in the middle of the sidewalk? It finally dawned on Rosario as she noticed one day a little boy who was done with his ice cream throw the half eaten cone carelessly on El Flaco's feet that she was the only one who could see him.
And each day that passed, he got bolder. He began getting closer and closer to Rosario's apartment until it got to the point that Rosario couldn't muster the courage to open her blinds to even let the sun in because she knew she would be face to face with endless cold unblinking eyes. She wanted to tell Miguel badly; it had been a long time since he shared her bed with her, and her body ached for the intimate touch she had grown accustomed to. But the thought of him thinking her a witch kept Rosario's mouth shut, witches weren't welcomed especially in her backwater town. When Rosario mother was alive she would tell her stories of special hunters that; if memories served Rosario were called meisters, these meisters were trained for the soul purpose of killing witches, they were fearsome hunters that caused havoc and fear throughout villages. So the mayor; not wanting the meisters to intervene any longer, decided to take matters into his hands. On November second 1984 when her mother was ten, she watched as a great bonfire claimed the lives of three women accused of witchery.
That was a long time ago, but from time to time Rosario would hear through the grapevine of people who would go missing right after Dia de los Muretos, and it made her wonder if the executions continued on to this day in secret. Come to think of it, the kindly old lady named Dona Choco had disappeared on Dia de los Muretos, the story that she had gone to visit relatives had begun to sour when Dona Choco still hadn't turned up.
El flaco did he have any part to play in this?
Her skin prickled with fear when Rosario felt an all too familiar cold wind envelope her. She never heard him walk, but she knew the footsteps that followed slowly behind her were his, they sounded inhuman, like a wrench hitting a pipe. Groaning Rosario propelled herself further, forcing her tired heavy feet that were caked with mud to run faster. She was almost there, the lights from the lanterns stretched out like arms to her as she finally reached the cobble stones of the bustling streets.
Even at an early hour, the street were filled to the brim with both tourists and locals alike, the smell of pan de Muretos and tamales wafted through the air, and the streets were littered with yellow Mexican marigolds that also were also arranged in Rosario's thick black braided hair, though not as pristine as they were when she had left her apartment, they now sagged and bobbed on her head loosely as she pushed through the dancing crowd leaving a trail of loose petals on the ground that were now at the mercy of drunken stomping feet.
Rosario cried out in surprise when she felt a pair of strong arms pick her up and flung her around, a man dressed in a skeleton costume with a wreath of blue forget me not's atop his head had taken the liberty of taking her as a dance partner, all the while singing out "Mi bella,bella Muchachita!" In a drunken slur and nuzzling her neck with his cold plastic mask, Rosario's head darted around franticly as the walls or people began hitting and rubbing against her. she pushed and scratched at the man that held on to her tightly when she saw El Flaco, continuing his pursuit, his pace quickening as he effortlessly milled throughout the crowds of dancing skulls like a regal the king. Rosario wasn't the type to be considered by others as rude or mean, however in last ditch effort to escape from being easy bait she quickly took both of her sandals off and smacked the man on the sides of his head as hard as she could. And pushed away when she felt his grip loosening, she never turned back to apologize, as the man held his right eye calling her a damn tease as he rocked back and forth with pain on the dusty ground.
La Catrina was up ahead; Rosario could see the familiar green neon lite shinning in the distance, she Clutched at her orange shawl, and pushed through the final barrier of people, her green prairie skirt ripped slightly at the bottom when she pulled it out from under a man's shoe and a bulb of marigold fell inside her white short sleeved peasant blouse. She bit the bottom of her red lip hard as she fought the raw pain that radiated from her now barefooted bloody chapped feet as she plodded through the dark cobbled stoned street straight to La Catrina. Her dry lips formed a smile when she saw the familiar form of Miguel standing in front of the back door and looking at his watch with a worried look.
"Miguel!" Rosario cried flinging her trembling form inside his surprised warm arms.
"Rosario Where have you been? We were waiting for you; you can't imagine how annoying Joe's bitching was starting to get."
"Believe me, I can imagine alright," Rosario heaved a relived breath as she buried her head in Miguel's chest not even caring that she looked a sweaty mess.
"Hey, look at you, what's wrong?" Rosario felt Miguel's dry fingers on her face as he lifted it up towards his."
"I'm sorry, its nothing, I was just…I was just wanting to get here as fast as I could, I went to go light a candle for my mother at church and lost track of the time. I, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about that now, "Miguel squeezed Rosario's shoulders and flashed her toothy smile, "make it up to me by getting your ass in there and showing everyone what you're made of."He spoke softly to her as he moved the lose strands of hair out of her face, Miguel didn't even noticed that she was barefoot, her long skirt took care of that and covered her aching feet well.
"Right," Rosario chirped cheerily, as she began to follow her lover inside the hazy Smokey bar, only stopping, when she saw a black form out of the corner of her eye and decided that she would ask Miguel to walk her home.
"That was awesome did you see the crowd?" Kike exclaimed, as he raised handfuls of paper money from the round table Rosario and the others sat at, and let them fall lazily on top of the feast that they had ordered to celebrate the great success they had at La Catrina. Not only was the owner; Don Alfredo impressed; he actually offered the small mariachi band a full-time position as the main act, The pay Don Alfredo offered was more than they had ever seen in their lives.
"I told him we'd think about it," Miguel announced as he downed another glass of tequila. "You can't sound too desperate or they lose interest fast."
"Well you can't take too long or they'll think we're stuck-up," Joe mumbled, as he shoveled more food down his mouth. "I'm already getting used to this food, and I'm defiantly not going back to the strict diet of beans and tortillas we've been eating for months. I'll kill you if we do."
"Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm doing. First thing in the morning I'll sign the contract of easy living, but right now," Miguel brushed Rosario's cheek lovingly making her blush, as he poured her a shot, "Let's make a toast, to our bright future at La Catrina!"
"A La Catrina!" the group cried out in unison, as they drank the remaining amount of tequila that hadn't spilled from the force of them clinking their shot glasses together, The friends continued enjoying the rest of the night drinking, laughing, finally feeling like one of the regular people because of the money that was now floating in each and every one of their pockets, unaware of what was going on behind the closed doors of "La Catrina.
The green lights of La Catrina blinked rapidly as the heavy footsteps of the final crowd of customers left in a drunken state, empty beer bottle and lime slices littered the ground and filled the air with sharp a crisp odor. Don Alfredo with a thick hairy arm ran a hand through his mass of grey curls and surveyed the mess.
"Well, it's not like I shouldn't be used to this," he thought as he picked up discarded boxers that had somehow ended up in the middle of the wooden stage and threw them in the trash bag he was carrying around with him. La Catrina had been in Alfredo's family for years. Founded by his great grandfather Don Alfredo the first; it had beaten the test of war and time and had earned the nickname the pearl of the desert. As a child Alfredo would watch with wonder as each night was filled with exciting performances, first class food, and drinks and beautiful celebrities who would come far and wide just to rub elbows in the small bar and nightclub; making Alfredo feel as if he was a character in The Arabian knights his favorite book.
It felt like a dream when he had finally came of age and took over the family business. But by that time, the fifties had passed and the golden opulence and glamour of La Catrina died with it. it had then become Alfredo's sole purpose and burden just to keep the damn thing afloat, He had exhausted all his and his wife's savings and watched as both his wife's love and his business crumbled away leaving him penniless and alone. Alfredo took a deep swig of a half empty beer and placed it on one of the bars stools and stretched his tired back; trying very hard to ignore the loud crackling sound of the intercom upstairs in his office that he hopefully thought had accidently switched on.
His business was dying, he closed his eyes tightly when he heard the loud crackling rustle of paper and metal, he saved it, he reasoned, as he heard a shrill pleading scream of a women as she cried out in agony for her mother, and a sickening squishing sound that Alfredo knew all too well. It was always a tiring process, it took him days to wash the blood off the walls, Wero, Alfredo decide to call him for his ghostly blonde hair and blue eyes always made a mess when he ate. But if it wasn't for him, La Catrina wouldn't have regained its former glory in the matter of months that wero had stepped foot in the ramshackle bar. Alfredo reeled over in disgust and grabbed on to his doughy hot belly trying to hold back the bile that rose in his throat as he heard the sloppy sucking sound that signified that Wero was finished with his meal. Silence once again filled the dark room, Alfredo toyed with the spout of the beer bottle with trembling fingers, as his mind raced, she was young and beautiful, and most likely her family was looking for her, he knew it was a was a bad idea and decided to ignore her and her hitchhiking thumb and passed her by on the road as he and Wero drove home from the grocery store earlier that day.
"I want her," Wero's soft melodic voice cut through the silence of the car. His strong pale hand clutched at Alfredo's dark hand and squeezed, digging his finger nails hard in the old man's skin until rivulets of blood trickled onto the dirty spotted carpet floor. So like a loyal dog Alfredo stopped the car and waited with a heavy heart as he saw the girl pick up her things and jog up to the old mustard colored suburban. Smiling a genuine sweet honey smile as she climbed in unaware that those would be her final hours,
"Ah that meal was rather satisfying thank you," Wero's soft voice floated through the intercom and startled the old man from his thoughts as it crackled to life once again. "You know that shall keep me full for a while, I'd say, oh, I dunno? A few hours or so," Wero giggled as he continued mischievously, "that girl I saw earlier with the band, she sang so pretty and she looked so delicious, like a big slice of birthday cake with orange gumdrops."
"She's off limits," Don Alfredo spoke sternly, "At least until I'm done with her, he nervously added waving his hand flippantly when he heard a displeased growl from the intercom.
"Very well I shall wait," Wero laughed sweetly, "but please don't be slow you know how I get when I grow bored." Wero said before finally switching off the intercom, and leaving Don Alfredo alone.
"Well," Don Alfredo thought as he slouched onto the bar stool suddenly feeling exhausted.
"At least I don't have to pick up any bodies, he always manages to eat every last crumb.
And that was the prologue; I hope it piqued your curiosity. I wanted Dia de los Muretos (day of dead) Which is on November 2nd to play a big part in this story, also there will be some sentences spoken in Spanish so I will have translation notes at the end of every chapter when its needed. and with that i hope you stay tuned till the first chapter
Translation notes:
Wero: Blondie or another word for Blondie is Rubio
"Mi Bella, Bella, Muchachita": "My beautiful, Beautiful, Girl."
Mexican Marigolds: used in Dia De Los Muretos to honor the dead
La Catrina: roughly named after la calavera Catrina (the elegant skull) it was a zinc etching made by the Mexican printmaker Jose Guadalupe Posada, and is used widely in Mexican imagery and during Day of The Dead
Los Brazos: the arms