She has freckles like little eyes boring a hole into your soul when she looks at you. She has a face as clear as crystal that when you look at her, you can see your own reflection—mirrorless, empty, and reserved. When you press your lips against hers, a flood of poisonous schemes awaits you, and you'll be lost like Alice in Wonderland.

She's an important chess piece that cannot be easily moved; she's a queen, the ace, the king. A pawn may capture a queen, but she is also the king. Her throne reeks of gold and fortune, her mind flows with wisdom, and her body's attached like the goddess Aphrodite. She's the thunder in the rain. Her cries are a woe of revenge and power. Death can not capture a woman like her. She's Eve and she's Lilith. She's a spirit and she can be a snake—crawling with her reptile skin. Her eyes are as fierce shaped as the diamond's emerald and lastly, she's macabre surrealism that when you read her, her true self shows and pushes you to infinite possible dreams you can dream of. 

Avary is the bird of thunder. In her cage, she's a young soul duplicated to bring misfortune every time it rains in the spring of Casmorville.

A tune with no sound;
a bird sings in the morning.

So too-

Our hopes seem quiet;
as they are sung by our faith
  In hopes The Lord hears its calling.

On the wings-

Resting upon the High Almighty;
who hears of Silence's echo
  Feathers lost in the wind;
  relied on Him highly, as if to be soaring.

The God Bird is man praying to be heard.

A caged bird sings,
not to entertain
but in the hope
that its call
will be answered
by a familiar tune.

To the north: Can you hear me?
To the east: I am listening.
To the south: Are you there?
To the west: Until tomorrow.