Avery

Avery sit in a lonely cafe in South London. She’s small, with soft brown hair and blue eyes that hold more thought than she ever says aloud. At first, she’s quiet, careful with her words, but once she’s interested, she warms quickly. Her loyalty runs deep; once she cares, she doesn’t let go. She doesn’t hide who she is, though she keeps parts of herself locked away, the darker ones she learned to suppress. She moves through her days on instinct, teaching, listening, watching.