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🪬• It was cold. It was horribly, disgustingly cold, and Powder knew that what she’d done was likely going to be the death of her.

The rain soaked her clothes, her breaths ragged as she forced them from her frail and collapsing lungs.

Her leg throbbed, torn open and bleeding, the red being actively washed away by the bacteria filled rain.

Damn.

This sucked.

But she still didn’t regret running away. She’d rather a broken leg, a concussion, and broken ribs over being sent to piltovers mental hospital.

She was only in shorts and a T-shirt, the night sky above falling into a deep black, speckled by glimmering white stars and the overshine of helicopters searching.

stupid rescue party..