๐ใโ lala baptiste . cis woman . she and herใ๐ look โ there goes kailea varane , the twenty7 year old boutique owner i was just telling you about . you know . . . the hanged man ? hard to believe they only lived in the center for five years โ it feels like so much longer . around tourists , laya , is known for being dedicated , but anyone who's been to the night market lately knows just how single minded they can get when they overwork themselves into exhaustion because a task always needs to be completed . recently , they've been into documenting the lives lifed around her with digital camera and a junk journal which is probably where they picked up that locket they're always carrying around . but who knows . . . if you do see them , could you do me a favor and remind them to grab their band-aids decorating fingertips , the proof that sometimes you have to bleed for the things you love + a siren song trapped in kind eyes , you mean to warn them : stay away + the dreams of a little girl grasped between fingers , you're too scared to admit you've outgrown her ? it's clogging up the shore . . .
existence starts in sorrow . in a hand held to tight , a soundtrack of tears splattering against plastic , and the taunt of two red lines โโย pregnant ย . kailea is the product , a mistake , of two sixteen year old kids . holding on to each other , in the heaviness of the world . they were never meant to be together , least of all raise a child . kailea's mother didn't get the option to walk away . her father did . his parents hands pulling him by his shirt collar , and a hidden truth in his eyes : he was relieved for it .
kailea and her mother stayed in avalon , in a small trailer by the coast , for all of four years . just until kailea's mother was able to afford a two bedroom apartment in san francisco . the city that would be kailea's home for the next eighteen years . her life existed around her mother , who raised kailea like the sun of her universe , and fashion . sketchbooks filled with pieces the minute she could hold a pen . she was in awe with the fashion industry , a silly passion , as her mother would declare ( yet she still bought kailea a sewing machine for her thirteenth birthday ) . she spent most of her middle school and high school career sewing her own pieces together . and when her senior year approached and she applied to fit , no one was surprised .
kailea traded san francisco in for new york . studying fashion for almost four years . almost four years of having a life filled with color . new experiences . new people . . it was everything she dreamed of : until the call came . your mothers been in an accident . kailea would not graduate .
losing her mother , was losing a piece of herself . without her mom , kailea couldn't eat , sleep , breathe . her life suddenly colorless . truth be told , kailea probably would've rotted away in her mothers apartment if not for finding her mothers tucked away belongings : letters , pictures of her as a baby in her mothers arms by the beach , sea shells painted on . she knew her mother did everything to escape avalon , but in her grief , it felt like it was calling to her .
five years ago , kailea moved back to avalon searching for something that'd fill the hole in her soul . now , she runs her own fashion boutique , amphitrite boutique , which came to be when she launched an online only store on a whim and the desire to find herself in the dream she once hung onto . five years has granted her growth , memories , new loves , new experiences . but time hasn't healed the wound of death : grieving consumes her still . even when she tries to run from it .
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