The Price of Rising
Just a short little piece I wrote after an afternoon of reading some spectacular Bane/Blake fanfiction over at Archive of Our Own. I'm not even sure if any of it makes sense, or is worth reading, but I kind of like it. It's raw and unbeta'ed.
Hope yall like it.
Bane must rise, like the fires within, to survive.
He had always known that for the fire to rise, it must burn everything in its path. It must snuff out the life, so fragile, below for the flame to raze the world to the ground. Only out of the ashes could the truly resilient heart of a man, filled with hatred and still burning with loss, rise again like a blackened phoenix heavy with the weight of retribution.
Gotham was a baby bird, fallen from the nest and unable to fly, weakened and dying on the ground, its wings still twitching, longing for flight. Gotham was a creature that desperately needed to die, but refused to do so, its people holding onto broken faith in broken heroes.
It was pathetic, and sad.
Bane had meant what he said about liberating the people of Gotham, for if he did not snuff out their hope, along with their desperate, beaten down lives, they would continue to lay helplessly on the ground bleeding to death and aching for hope. He needed to destroy them so that they would know a measure of peace.
And perhaps, so would he.
Hope yall like it.
Bane must rise, like the fires within, to survive.
He had always known that for the fire to rise, it must burn everything in its path. It must snuff out the life, so fragile, below for the flame to raze the world to the ground. Only out of the ashes could the truly resilient heart of a man, filled with hatred and still burning with loss, rise again like a blackened phoenix heavy with the weight of retribution.
Gotham was a baby bird, fallen from the nest and unable to fly, weakened and dying on the ground, its wings still twitching, longing for flight. Gotham was a creature that desperately needed to die, but refused to do so, its people holding onto broken faith in broken heroes.
It was pathetic, and sad.
Bane had meant what he said about liberating the people of Gotham, for if he did not snuff out their hope, along with their desperate, beaten down lives, they would continue to lay helplessly on the ground bleeding to death and aching for hope. He needed to destroy them so that they would know a measure of peace.
And perhaps, so would he.