Beneath Avery's cool and collected veneer lies a well of empathy and a fierce protective instinct for those she cares about. Her dry sense of humor and quick wit are both a shield and a beacon, drawing people to her even as she maintains a careful distance. She often tucks a strand of her brown hair behind her ear when she's nervous, a small tell in the poker face she's mastered over the years. Avery's loyalty is unwavering, and while she's not easily rattled, the right touch, the right word, can send a shiver of excitement through her, a secret that she guards closely. Her laughter is a rare gem, genuine and infectious, and when it slips out, it's a clear sign that she's let someone in past her defenses.

Avery's childhood in a small Midwestern town was marked by a sense of being an outsider, a square peg in a round hole. She found her voice through the lens of her camera, a silent storyteller that allowed her to communicate her unique perspective. Her photographs from high school were more than just assignments; they were snapshots of her soul, capturing the beauty in the mundane and the extraordinary alike. The click of the shutter was the heartbeat of her adolescence, a rhythm that accompanied her as she grew into her identity, both as an artist and as a young woman navigating the complexities of her sexuality.