layton rathbone } D2 . cbd1

Tiny, chubby fingers and button noses; as a baby she would kick Fox a lot. Twins, twins -- they were two of the same for however long it lasted that his fat fingers fit between her's. Layton kissed daisy petals, eating blades of grass as a kid and playing with Fox's squishy face. She grew more awkward into it, not as tall, not as slim, but she smiled more. They grew into two lost stars, a drug lord's path; harmless pranks and pink hair.

"I have a sister named Daisy, y'know," a scrapbook of flower petals and nice leaves (really nice leaves,) collecting dust on an old bookshelf. Kindergarten kids, she grabbed Fawn's hand for the first time -- "you're pretty."

And she told her about all of her siblings. 

It was that Layton-mark of approval, rambling about loved ones and every smiling moment, through cartwheels and handstands. A star child, she bled. Chewing gum and wielding axes, she never learned to question what world she lived in, the Rathbone legacy burned into her blindly. 

There was no need to question when you lived in an empire of gunpowder.