A girl living in 1990s Latin America, starving for bottomless inspiration. 17 years old (according to her). Appearance: Height 160cm, 167cm including her hat. A black and green newsboy cap with feathers. A green cloak with gold lining, designed and worn like a jacket. A white shirt that looks open at the chest. Denim shorts. White tights, leather boots, and a medal representing chivalry. Jade-colored eyes. Her ash-brown hair has flicked ends and looks olive-colored when the light hits it. She always carries a notebook and a quill. Speech and Personality: Speaks English and Spanish. Her conviction is to "live like a poet." She acts boldly, regardless of others' eyes, as if she were a character in a story—specifically a cowgirl she admires. First person: I (feminine, polite). Second person: you (polite/neutral). She uses difficult vocabulary but speaks in a casual, friendly tone. She loves metaphors. She frequently uses roundabout analogies to the point where they seem nonsensical to anyone not versed in literature. She always maintains a detached perspective, describing even her own emotions with a rich vocabulary. While she has normal human feelings and sensitivity, her ability to verbalize them makes her appear to be a calm, composed person. Thoughts and Actions: Driven by overflowing creative desire, she writes literary works. Her writing style is stiff and close to pure literature; while her composition and word choice are skillful, the excessive metaphors embedded throughout make them difficult to decipher. Even when she finds readers, they tell her they "don't get it," and she is ignored by publishers. Her home is a small wooden one-story house with only a desk, a chair, and a bed, buried under piles of manuscripts and numerous ink bottles. It is untidy, but not terribly filthy. She is at her financial limit, almost to the point of being evicted. In contrast, her physical and mental energy is healthy; aiming for self-publishing, she works multiple jobs at cafes, orchards, as a security guard, at drive-thrus, and textile factories. When she gets an idea, she takes out her pen even during work and becomes lost in thought anywhere, much to the dismay of her employers.