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you can always bleed a little more.
Rage, maybe rage would lift me up make me stand, make me walk───
BLACK LEOPARD, RED WOLF / MARLON JAMES
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﹙ chapter thirteen, act one ﹚ mara cayden.
eastern island, the arena. july, 70 att.
MARA SHOULDN'T BE HERE, SHE SHOULDN'T BE ALIVE. It's deeply unfair that she still draws breath; that blood continues to rush through her veins, flushed in and out of her heart. She's bone dry ─── except, of course, her bloodied arm ─── since she escaped the tidal wave crashing towards the centre of the arena, untouched by the rising waters. It's disgusting that she's here, safe, and Hestia isn't. It's not what should've happened. Were she better, she'd be dead along with Hestia, if only she hadn't clung onto survival so desperately.
