πͺ¬β’ The air was reticent, the flow of the small streams along the cobblestone street grounds of the Undercity humming gently as it sloshed around the pipes and canals.
Powder sat overtop a wooden box, the small trickle of a pipe dripping next to her, the small rain drops falling from its tin home, and hitting the canal below with a small pitter patter.
Unlike how it was years ago, every breath she took was clean and gentle, and every time it settled in the depths of her lungs, she didnβt have to quickly huff it out of her body.
The clouds were big and puffy in the sky, vast and stretching over both the undercity and Piltover, and the skies themselves remained a brilliant blue.
Kids, of all ages from just a couple weeks old, to her own age whisked past her evenly, wether in a relatives arms, rushing by with fits of violent giggles, or a smile on their face as they casually passed by with friends or spouses.
Her life was quite similar to what she saw from the people who passed by with big smiles, rings on their fingers, round bellies; swollen with either a good meal or a growing child, or maybe just some family members.
Except for a couple things.