Silver eyes stared at him, swimming with quicksilver, before he jolted awake.

Avery gasped, pressing a hand against his chest to still his loudly-beating heart. He looked around with a start, taking note of everything: His locket was still on the beside table, his nightlight was still on, and his closet still remained closed. After nightmares it helped him to relax, seeing that all was as he'd left it.

After a moment, Avery dragged himself out of the covers. His warm feet tiptoed across the cold floor as he made his bed, brushing his hands on his night table to seize his locket and pull the chain around his neck, fastening it with ease after years of wearing it. It tingled against his skin, reminding him of his fifteenth birthday when he'd received it. It was iron, protection against the fey he'd see daily and interact with in town.

After pulling together whatever clothing was clean on the floor he now looked semi-presentable. He headed downstairs, pushing his fingers through his lopsided bedhead, before bumping right into his mother.

"Mum, what are you doing up so early?" Avery asked with a quirk of the brow, briefly confused. "Dad is out at the bakery, right? Isn't this a bit early?" It turned out that "a bit" was an understatement. His father woke at the crack of dawn, while Avery usually woke a half an hour later to start the day. His mother, who did little at the family bakery besides selling pastries, usually woke up an hour and a half after Avery did.

"Well surprise, I guess?" His mother pulled the curlers from her honey blonde hair as she spoke, looking up at Avery. "I just snapped awake earlier and couldn't go to bed. Don't expect a motherly greeting every morning." She smiled.

Avery kissed her forehead. "I know. Good morning, mum." He said, pulling away to dash off to the door. "Ed is waiting, so I'll be off!" He waved, earning a snort of acknowledgement in return.

Avery pulled his leather knee-high boots up his legs, kicking them out to fit his feet properly. He pulled his matching leather satchel over his shoulders, feeling the weight his father had promised him within. After checking one last time to be sure he didn't miss anything, he greeted the day.

It was early spring now, bringing with it bitter showers and muddy terrain. Despite this uneven terrain Avery was undeterred, speeding along the grassy plains and avoiding mud wells. It wasn't long until he'd parse through the crossroads. An old railway track ran along the dirt path perpendicular to the gravel path he was on. It was rusted beyond repair and felt somewhat mysterious to Avery- he gazed upon it familiarly, since he passed by practically daily, yet he didn't know much about it. It went as far as the eye could see, and once, upon following it as far as the town bounds permitted him, found it still continued past that. He'd brought Eddie once, who'd wisely brought a spyglass, only to find the old orange tracks disappeared into a nearby forest, vines twisted around the tracks, reclaiming the metal that was once apart of the earth. He would have gone further to investigate the woods, of course, if only the adults permitted it. The woods, as any child knew, were out of bounds until they'd grow older and wiser. Fey liked the woods, and liked children stumbling in. If the fae that found them was kind, they'd take a small favour to show them out of the sea of trees. But if the fae was an old, evil thing, they'd take the transgressor home as payment for trespassing. After all, children didn't know better than to agree to the charges. But adults did.

Avery was almost an adult. Just on the cusp of maturity, so close he could taste the new responsibilities and liberties. It was something he craved, to finally be old enough to strike out on his own. The talentless young Avery had lived a surprisingly sheltered childhood up until this point, you see. He was unused to dealing with fey, seeing as they wouldn't bother anyone without anything to give. As such, Avery had grown feeling an inherent bitterness towards the affair. While his parents would bargain and make deals he was forced to the back of the bakery to try learning how to bake. And when that had gone up in flames (literally), he'd been put to work in the family fields. It wasn't as if he blamed his parents for the utilitarian decision now, knowing how he'd had such an inability to cook or bake, but as such he lacked much of the experience everyone else had. And as a part of the town, he wanted desperately to gain what everyone else had.

Everyone else, like his friend, Ed Pechman. It was some cruel trick of fate he'd met Ed as a child; the talentless with the talented. Ed had become famous as a child with his ability to paint and reproduce landscapes, to the point you might mistake the painting for a window outside. Avery had always been a little jealous of his friend, being blessed by the fey and helpful to his family, but it wasn't as if he held that against Ed. His bitterness had grown to the fey as he'd gotten older, the blame shifted from rivalry to the false hierarchy created by the creatures. It wasn't as if he deserved less because other people made it that way; it was because the fey made it that way.

He approached Ed's house with a smile to match the rising sun. The house was cast in a faint orange glow this early in the morning, accenting the pale yellow of the shutters and the creamy white of the siding. The base of the house was decorated with large stones wedged in cement, and the cottage-vibe suited Ed. As he approached, he noticed the light in the front room already on, and knew instinctually Ed had pulled an all-nighter in his private studio again. Likely for a fey coming today. They never kept on schedule, and would show up either too early or far too late. You could never be prepared enough for their appointments or orders.

Avery knocked twice and waited just a few seconds before the door would be thrust open, Ed standing there in his usual state: paint splattered on his apron, wrists and forearms painted in strokes of numerous colours, like a pride flag on steroids. He painted on any canvas available, be it paper or his arms, to test the possible hues he planned to use.

"Avery!" Ed would hoist Avery into a hug, holding him tightly against his slim frame. "I'm glad you're here. It's been a while." Ed would let him go before showing him into the house, closing the door after himself.

"If a while is two days, then yes, Eddie, it has been a while." Avery couldn't help but lovingly tease his friend. "I'm glad to be here though." He took a moment to sniff the air and smile. "Is that bacon?" He asked, eyes searching the nearby kitchen door.

"Sure is. Don't think you'll get a free meal, though. I need your opinion on something." Ed said, leading him along to the studio nearby. It reeked of acrylic and oil paints, canvases half-finished or full of sketches sitting idly about.

Avery covered his mouth, finding his way to the window nearby. He pushed the curtains apart, gagging as he managed to unlock the window and let in the crisp morning air. "This stuff is crap to breathe in. I've told you that, what, ten times now?"

There was no good excuse besides laziness. "I know..." Ed said, trailing off. His green eyes flit off to the side.

"Then you should do so." Avery said sharply, grey eyes surveying Ed's before he would take a breath, not sure why he'd gotten so tense over such an inconsequential thing this morning. "Well... Didn't you need my opinion?" He asked tentatively.

"Oh! Right." Ed scrambled to retrieve his sketchbook, full of numerous sketches of a certain patron. He showed Avery two palettes: a mauve as the main colour, and deeper greens and yellows to accent it; and a lighter violet with reds and creams. "Which do you think suits the current season more? Godfrey wanted this portrait to be seasonal."

Godfrey. Undoubtably the reason Avery was off centre today. The fae had teased Avery relentlessly since day one, to the point where despite any great promises, he would book it to avoid that archfey. Just like he'd begun to do now, inching towards the door. "Probably the former. Winter becoming spring, revealing the dead flowers and foliage. I think that describes the current season." Avery said simply. "I'm going to head off."

"What? You only just got here. He's not scheduled for another hour, Avery." Ed took on a begging tone, eyes wide, tantalizing. "Come on, it's bacon!"

"And it'll hopefully be bacon another day! No offence, Ed, but I'd rather not be caught dead here when he's around." Avery smelled it in the air even before he saw the fey. The smell of a spring breeze and freshly-cut figs, completely dysphoric to the the fae it belonged to. Avery was quick to get to the door despite Ed's lonesome words, opening the old oak door. "I promise I'll catch up with you tonight, okay? Leave the bedroom lights on as long as you're awake, and I'll be there." Avery promised.

"You know I'll be up all night, so you better be." Ed stuck his tongue out, just in time for Avery to charge out the door, and right into Godfrey's arms. The fey spun him around once, Avery resisting every second of it, before putting him down. Having sent Avery running, Godfrey's eyes would settle on his artist, plum meeting emerald.

"Well? Now that the clay child is gone, let's begin." He said pleasantly, blotting out the sun.