Clothed in our grief

Chapter twenty

A/n: so in the rest of the story, you're going to be reading a bunch of injustice gods among us references. Just a warning.

*

It wasn't long before Lea's foster mother came in and checked up on her to make sure she was asleep, or stayed in bed anyways. Portland's not exactly the safest place at night, but that's when Lea finds it easiest to get out of the house.

After all, this is the third family she's been with this year. So it's only natural she'd want to get out so much. Especially when it comes to the family that's taken her in, seeing as they only care for the state pay check they get from being her legal guardians.

But this time when she sneaks out, she does it out of worry for her friends hours away from Portland. With a duffel bag packed and a wallet stuffed with cash to a point it became hard to completely shut it all the way. Let alone put it in her pocket. This isn't money she's been saving up, this is just all the money that rightfully belongs to her ever since her dad, her real one, 'passed away', or went 'missing'. Money that she earned, and money that her dad just wrung out of her for her talents.

In another duffel, she has it filled with every trophy and every tiara she's ever won. Every dress she's even worn that she still kept for some reason. Every certificate to prove they're all real, and not made out of some sterling silver or cheap metals. Alongside all the ridiculous jewelry that was added in on the mix. 

She's leaving Portland, making a stop by Mason's house.

Portland's pretty cold at night, and the piercing she has above her lip directly in the dent above her top lip, the silvery ball medusa piercing. It gets kinda cold at night, giving her lips a light blue tint which causes her to push more of her chin in the grey scarf she has wrapped loosely around her neck.

Narrowed blue eyes continue to star down the alley's she walks through, squared shoulders as both duffles rest their straps on them. Keeping balance is easy, like this. Weights on both sides of the body, though the one with her trophies and tiara sin it is a little heavier. And every now and then she'll get jabbed in the side by a point edge.

There's a gun in the other duffel bag, it's small. It barely fits in her hand either. She bought it last month, only cost her about four grand. Which puts more of a dent in her funds than she really would have wanted, but it's still all very do-able to her. It's a light, and easy to conceal weapon. A revolver chambered for rimless cartridge. It's a black Taurus 380. She's practiced taking it apart and putting it back together to a point she now feels like she could do it with her eyes closed. Then again, this is just a small revolver and that's basically no achievement.

Strands of dark purple hair keep blowing in her face along with the wind, and the black roots of her hair that're growing out only emphasize the fairness of her skin whenever any street lamps shine bright on it. The pink tinge to her cheeks due to the cold temperatures, the tip of her nose going pink as well.

What's keeping her the most warm is the green parka with black sleeves, the faux fur on the hood of the jacket over a knit beanie on her head. The coldness to the air is making her ears itch, especially around the gauges she's wearing. It's also a reminder on her legs that since it's getting colder, she should probably stop wearing jeans with holes in them without leggings on under it. Thankfully, the combat boots with the warm interior are enough to keep her actually wanting to walk to Mason's house.