'Pronouns'. Argh my keyboard...

@Ultimatium How will the plot go in Lavender Cafe? I need to know how to fit my characters with the plot. 

Elleny--

The morning birds are probably already singing, I realize as I get out of bed and grab my binoculars. I'm going to become a birdwatcher--for fun, obviously, because birds are fun. Also for another reason, but that's beside the point. I sit up in bed and take my binoculars, then point them out the window at a bird singing in the tree. I can't identify it. I frantically flip through the birding book on my bedside table, only to look up and notice that the bird has flown away. I shrug and train my binoculars on a bird perched on the windowsill of the empty house next to us. I cannot identify this bird either. It's only when I see a giant flash of fabric in the window that I realize the house next door is not empty anymore.
We have new neighbors.
Ignoring the bird, I focus on the window. There's a teenager, maybe a young adult, getting dressed in the room opposite mine. She, probably, whisks a long dress over her head and puts it on, then does up buttons. She takes about a minute doing the buttons of her dress--that must be a lot of buttons--and then does up her hair with pins. She looks out the window and I quickly drop my binoculars, because I don't need them--she's only about eight feet away. Her face is not wrinkled, but she has a sharp nose and looks very, very old for some reason. She doesn't have any pimples, but she's short, because I come up to the middle of my window and she doesn't quite. I should probably make the neighbors some muffins and go over and meet them, because I want to be welcoming and because I'm a tiny bit curious about this person in the dress.
I go downstairs, where my mom is making breakfast. She sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of me, my dad, and herself. 
"Good morning, Elleny," says my dad.
"Hi, Dad," I say. "Hi, Mom."
"Did you sleep well?" Mom loves to fret over me, especially now.
"Yep," I say. "Sleepiest sleep ever!"
My parents can recognize when I'm being cheery for them, instead of with them, but I don't want them to be sad.
"Great oatmeal, Colette," says my dad to my mom. "I'm off, then." My dad has a job making maps of Jenseng so that nobody gets lost. It's a very demanding job, but he's good at it and it pays well.
"See you later, Henry," says my mom. The door swings shut after my dad.
"We have new neighbors," I tell my mom. "I saw someone in the house next door. Is it okay if I make them some muffins and take them over, maybe show the neighbor around?"
"Of course, Elleny," says my mom tiredly. I go into the kitchen and flip through our family recipe binder until I find what I'm looking for: Justin's Banana Muffins. Perfect. 

~Violet~

Violet smiled as she stepped down from the ferry and onto the city of Jenseng. It felt amazing already. The weather was perfectly sunny, and she could hear the birds chirping. A perfect and lovely trip.

"Isn't Jenseng wonderful?" Violet gushed, looking around happily.

"It's the opposite," Celeste, her friend, grumbled. "The sun is shining way too bright and getting in my eyes. I would prefer the snow."

"I know you would," Violet said. "But we went to Eirwen, that very snowy place, last time. And we both know how much of a disaster that trip was."

"At least this time I don't have to bring my older sister, since I'm old enough," said Celeste. "But that's the only plus side. Other than that, this place is completely unsatisfactory."

"This place is amazing, what do you mean?" Violet said, sounding surprised. 

Not listening anymore to her friend's complaining, she started down the bamboo walkway. Just with her first breath of Jenseng air, she could already tell that this place would be fabulous for adventure. And she did love to travel.

"I hope I experience something new and exciting here," said Violet. Her eyes brightened as she spotted a vine looping around one of the bridges up ahead. She ran up to it and conjured up bright morning glories on it.

Suddenly, she felt a cold gust of wind from behind. She looked, and saw Celeste, as if she were trying to make the weather colder. "Celeste, quit that," Violet said. "We're supposed to enjoy the sunny weather, not the cold weather."

"Ugh, fine," Celeste said, muttering something under her breath. 

Violet sighed, but continued to skip happily about Jenseng. It was amazing so far, even though she had only spent a few moments in Jenseng.

She waited for Celeste to catch up, then said, "Well, I'm getting a little hungry, so why don't we go to one of the cafes for lunch? I've heard about a particularly delicious one called the Lavender Cafe. Just the name makes me wanna go in!"

"Any name that has anything to do with purple flowers or plants entices you," sighed Celeste. "But fine, I guess we should go."

"Awesome," said Violet, as she made her way down to the cafe. 

Name:Sam 

Pronouns:They/them

Age:1,000(young) 

Appearance (Does not have to be human):Orange skin, yellow eyes, red hair

Personality:Shy

Magical powers(optional, but suggested):Can control fire

Strengths&Weaknesses:Weakness: pasta Strength: my fictional cat Chcolate 

Reason for being here:Studying abroad with college friends

Other(did I miss anything?):Staying in a small hotel not far from Lavender Cafe 

Sam stepped off a ferry with their college friends and gasped at the sight. Jenseng was a beautiful city, so much unlike their hometown Elemental. They walked with their guide and marveled at the scenery. Their asignment was to document lots of different types of plants. They walked awhile with the guide and soon got to the hotel where they were staying. Their guide already reserved rooms, so they went up the spiral staircase to room 305. They sat down on their bed and unpacked their stuff, pulling out the map. They thought about where they would go, and settled with going to the Lavender Cafe. They tugged on their boots and followed the map down to the Cafe. When they stepped in, unreconizible scents filled their nostrils...

Lillia

Lillia's alarm woke her far too early for a Sunday morning. Her parakeet, Stormy, chirped sweetly (or at least he thought it was sweet--Lillia wished he would kindly shut his beak) and she groaned loudly. Market days were always her favorite, except for the 4:30 wake-up call. She most certainly was not a morning person. 

Her best friend, Ren, on the other hand, hardly slept. It showed, too. His eye bags seemed to grow darker each day. 

Lillia stretched, breathing in the heavenly aroma of her father's brambleberry hotcakes and crispy bacon. Dressing quickly in a simple plaid dress and suede jacket, she took the stairs two at a time, calling out to her father. "I'm awake, Anders!" She was rather fond of addressing him using his first name, which vexed him in a good-natured way. 

"I can see that, Lillia." He chuckled, flipping a pancake on the stove. She snatched a couple of them from the tray, and stuffed a piece of bacon into her mouth before running hastily out the door. Ren was waiting impatiently outside her house, tapping his long fingers on the handles of his boat. His head popped up and he smiled. 

"You look nice." Truthfully, though, she probably didn't. Lillia had realized not only did she forget to brush her long hair, but she had also forgot to brush her teeth. She blushed anyway.

"Thanks, Rennie." She hopped on the boat in the seat behind him and they sped away. The sunrise was beautiful--a watercolor of blues and peaches and greens. And before she knew, it, the market was in sight, bustling with people of all ages and ethnicities. Tourists milled the streets with cameras and coin purses out in the open. A classic amateur move that would attract pickpockets within seconds. 

Ren's stall always had a line waiting for him before he had even arrived, so they quickly began work. His pop-up bakery made a lot, though he gave back most of it to homeless shelters and charities. Lillia had long since thought he was the kindest person she knew--and unlike the many swooning girls who pursued him, she didn't care about his looks. But sometimes..sometimes she wondered if maybe she cared for him more than she thought. It was easy to deny this, especially to her gossipy aunts. He made her feel special, though. Like she did have at least someone who understood her. Ren might be the one everyone was chasing after, but Lillia was essentially the town pariah. Her wings made her feel clumsy and big and...it didn't help that her classmates were easily scared. Ren was her only friend, and sometimes she wanted more.

And little did she know, but on the other side of the stall...Ren was feeling the same way.  

FINALLY MAKING MY CHARACTER. I'LL JOIN THE RP TOMORROW-

Name: Mika Icarusine

Pronouns: generally goes by he/him, but is ok with any and all gendered language

Age: 17

Appearance (Does not have to be human): Mika has a thin, lanky build, the kind of figure that makes little old ladies fuss over him getting enough to eat despite him being perfectly healthy.  His hair is long, thick and jet-black, usually worn in a ponytail, and he has warm olive skin sprinkled with freckles.  His eyes are as blue and many-toned as the sea.  His neck, back and arms are mottled with brown feathers.

Personality: Pretty nonchalant and aloof, but with an overall optimistic attitude.  Mika goes through life with a carefree ease, much more concerned with his own personal success and principles than the expectations of society.  This allows him a lot of freedom but also makes him selfish and noncommital.  Mika tries his best to avoid getting too close to or relying too much on others.

Magical powers(optional, but suggested): Able to create illusions from smoke or fog (he often carries a lighter for this exact purpose), persuasion/hypnotism through humming or singing

Strengths&Weaknesses: These are mostly characterized above in the personality section, but he is also skilled at singing and swimming; terrible at lying, terrified of empty silence, and quite bad at sitting still for very long.

Reason for being here: He's following the trail left by his absent mother and it has brought him to Jenseng (I can change this if it's too dramatic lol)

Other: Open to shipping with boys around his age

Enola--

On our first morning in this strange floating city, someone knocks on the door. I open it: it's a kid, about twelve or thirteen so about my age, holding a basket.
"Hi," says the kid. "I'm your neighbor, and I noticed you moved in, so I brought you a housewarming gift." The kid hands me the basket, which is full of muffins.
"Thanks," I say. Baked goods make Mom happy, so they make me happy. I put the muffins on a table. "Which neighbor are you, the one with the cranky cat or the fluffy dog?"
"Fluffy dog," says the kid. "Her name's Tillie and she's my dog. Well, she used to be my brother's, but she's mine now."
"Okay," I say.
"Do you want me to show you around?" asks the kid.
"Sure," I say.
"Do you have a boat?" the kid asks.
"Boat?" I echo.
"Okay, I take that as no, you don't. They're like these floating boat things that people use to get around the clouds," says the kid. "Still, I can borrow one from my parents."
"Hold on one second," I say. "Let me leave a note for my mom." I run upstairs and scribble a note on the legal pad on the side of her bed. My mom isn't awake yet, but that's normal. Then I run back downstairs. By the time I get to the door, the kid is sitting in a gondola--that's what it looks like--just off this walkway thing made of bamboo. I'm still not used to Jenseng; me and my mom immigrated from Earth, even though both of us are native to Jenseng. According to her, when my dad died when I was a baby, she moved to Earth because it was too sad in Jenseng. Now, Earth is too depressing, so she moved us back here.
"Come on," says the kid. I cross the walkway and get into the boat with her. The kid paddles skillfully through the clouds while I sit, watching. She has long brown-blond hair and is wearing a red sweatshirt and gray leggings, which suit her well. The streets are also very interesting; we've gotten out of our neighborhood and are onto a major thoroughfare.
"This is the library," says the neighbor, "and this is the police office." She points her paddle after both places before continuing. "The place I'm actually going to take you, though, is the Lavender Cafe, which is basically this great cafe with croissants that are legendary. We can stop there and eat, I'll treat us. Here we are." She moors the boat on a post and we step out onto the walkway. Nearby is a shop front; it has a purple awning and The Lavender Cafe is stenciled in white on the door. The neighbor pushes the door open. Inside are quite a few people, sitting at tables and chatting. The neighbor takes us straight to the counter, where a man is standing, taking orders--and also, evidently, cooking and washing the dishes, because he's causing implements to fly around and cook things themselves somehow. Mom told me that a lot of people from Jenseng have magical powers. I wonder what hers is, but she's never told me. Maybe, somehow under the cloak of sadness that's covered her life, it disappeared.
"Hello, Elleny," says the man at the counter. "Who is this you have here?"
"She's my neighbor," says Elleny, the kid.
"Enola Malone," I say.
"Nice to meet you, Enola," says the man. "I'm Pharma Elen, although I go by Elen. What can I get for you today?"
"I'll have a legendary croissant, please," I say.
"Chocolate, cinnamon, almond, butter, or apricot?" asks Elen.
"Chocolate," I say.
"And one apricot," Elleny adds. Elleny hands Elen some money and two croissants fly out of the display case and onto two plates, which themselves fly out from a cabinet. Elleny takes one plate and I take the other.
"Are you going to live in Jenseng?" asks Elen.
"At least six months," I say.
"All right," says Elen. "You can come back here and talk to people if you ever have questions; most inhabitants of Jenseng are usually very welcoming. Enjoy your stay, Enola; I think you are going to like it here." 

Elen----

Elen smiled as he watched the two girls take their seats near one of the windows. The older one seemed nice, he noted, if a bit quiet. Perhaps it was just the culture shock.

There was a creak as the pantry door opened behind him.

"Ah, hello again." Elen said, turning back to face the doorway. "What surprises do you have for me now? You're going to tell me now that you've demolished off half of that angel cake in the fridge, I suppose."

The young, wiry boy stared back at him curiously from the doorway. "You aren't going to kick me out of here?"

"No." Elen said, shrugging. "But I would appreciate it if you would come out of my pantry and pay for that loaf you've destroyed." He glanced over the boy's face, and then his clothing, and then his rollator. A brief flash of realization flashed in his eyes. "Um, if you can, that is." He added.

The boy glanced back at Elen with a cautious glance. "It's nice, here." Ve said quickly. "Cozy. I like this place." Ve looked back up at him again before continuing. "I'll go find somewhere to sit."

"Ok." Elen nodded, hopelessly trying to follow ve's thread of logic. It would be better than vim standing in the pantry. "Do you need help?"

The boy shook his head and ambled out of the doorway, where he retreated into a corner of the cafe. Elen shook his head to himself. And he had thought that he had seen his share of curiosities.

There was a second creak of a door, this time from the one leading up to the second floor. A pair of gray eyes peeped out from behind it, scanning the cafe. Seeing no customers arriving just yet, Elen hurried over.

"Lantus! Finally awake, are you?"

"Is this a bad time?" Lantus asked nervously, but he corrected himself a second later. "Oh, this obviously is a bad time to have breakfast, isn't it. My bad."

"Do you want to have it in your room?" Elen asked.

Lantus scanned the rapidly filling cafe with a reproachful gaze from the cover of the door. "Yes. Thanks." He confirmed.

Elen exhaled and flicked his tail. A plate of steaming pancakes floated over to the door.

"Thanks dad, you're a lifesaver." Lantus said gratefully, plucking the plate from the air. "I'll take it from here. Ah, pancakes. Nice. And remember to get the lock on this infuriating door installed, please, you always forget."

"I will remember this time, Lantus." Elen smiled as the door swung shut. He had never gotten around to installing locks on the doors, but it was partly because he kept forgetting the keys. Lantus instead insisted that a locked door was a good door.

But then, no one in Jenseng would be nosy enough to enter a door with 'staff only' written on it, would there? Elen reflected as he returned to the counter and propped open his newspaper. (Snow was in hot pursuit of rain, it read on the weather voting column. It was only a matter of what storm is going to win out on the last day, which is today. No matter which one will, the storm's going to be a big one, so get your raincoats and windbreakers both ready...)It was one of those unspoken rules that everyone followed.

Unless one took into account a few exeptions, as today's morning had demonstrated... 

------ 

In case you didn't fully understand my word vomit, I'm half-wondering if anyone wants to interact with Lantus in the second half, but feel free to ignore it and talk with Elen if you want to. One character is quite enough for me to roleplay in :)

Ren

"One hibiscus croissant and a bonsai latte, is that right?" Ren asked his current customer, a pretty young woman of about seventeen. Her pink lips curled into a smile. 

"Yes, thank you." Her eyes looked him over appraisingly, and Ren spun around to avoid her prying gaze. He knew what all the customers like her wanted. Quickly, he slid the pastry into a bag and handed it to her with her coffee. 

"Have a nice day." Behind him, Lillia worked on fixing one of the espresso machines. Her brown eyes squinted at the wrench in her hand. A little crinkle appeared between her brows, and he resisted the urge to reach forward and smooth it out. Why did she always have to look so adorably attentive?

-Celeste-

"Wasn't that cafe wonderful?" sighed Violet. "The food was absolutely delicious!"

"The food was, I guess. And maybe the people there were nice too," Celeste admitted. "But I still hate this hot weather."

"You mean mild and sunny weather?" joked Violet.

"Ugh, nevermind," Celeste grumbled, not in the mood for jokes. She was feeling absolutely miserable in Jenseng. Everywhere, she felt hot and sticky, and even with her temperature control powers, she still could only manage a small breeze. Jenseng is just to sunny, she thought. Everything else isn't quite bad, but...just the weather is horrid. But of course she had gotten dragged into this trip because last time they went to a cold place, so it was only right that they went to Jenseng this time.

"Come on, stop with that grumpy face," Violet said, poking her. "Let's go explore Jenseng!"

Celeste pushed away Violet's hand. "Fine, let's go. But don't touch me."

"Celeste sure is prickly today," Violet said under her breath, but just loud enough for Celeste to hear.  "Ah, I know!" she exclaimed. "Let's go see that bridge up ahead. It looks like a wonderful picture opportunity!"

Celeste slowly trudged after her as Violet rushed ahead over to a bridge. It certainly was pretty, except for the fact that the sun was shining brighter than ever onto the bridge. Keeping her head down to not get the sun in her eyes, she went over to Violet as she took several pictures of the bridge overlooking mythical-looking misty clouds. 

When Violet had finished taking pictures, she insisted on taking a picture with both her and Celeste in it, so it wasn't really a pleasant time on the bridge. In fact, although the view was quite cool, it was still boring and long.

As they stepped off the bridge, Celeste sensed Violet become quiet all of a sudden. She noticed up ahead were two adults and their child running around them, and the two adults laughing and talking to each other. 

Celeste gently took Violet's hand and whispered, "You okay?"

"Oh, yes. I'm totally fine," Violet said, but her voice quivered a little as she spoke. Her sky-blue eyes seemed as if they were caught in a memory.

"You sure?" 

"Yes, I'm completely fine," Violet repeated, this time sounding like her normal voice. "Where to next?"

"Wherever you want, I guess," replied Celeste.  

Enola--

By the time I return home and go up the stairs, carrying two muffins on two plates, my mother is awake.
"Hi, Mom," I say.
"Good morning, Enola," says my mother.
"The neighbors brought us some muffins," I say.
"How kind," says my mother, taking a muffin and biting into it even though she's sitting up in bed. "Please thank them."
"I will," I say.
She says nothing.
"I thought I would see about using the boards in the garage to make some garden furniture," I continue.
"I don't think we have any tools," says my mom.
"There was a box in the garage. I'll go downstairs and see what I can find, and then maybe we can go outside after lunch and do some drawing?"
"Sure," my mom says.
I eat my own muffin and then go downstairs and into said garage. Our house, which used to be my mom's house when she was little, was never sold, just left alone in Jenseng while my mom moved to Earth, married my dad, had me, and did most, but not all, of raising a child. Therefore, in the garage--not really a garage, but a room containing what we kept in our garage on Earth--are some boards and a really musty-looking floating boat thingy. There's also a red box full of tools, with a piece of masking tape on it to serve as a label. The words Lizzie Maye--tools are written on the tape in an old black marker. My mother's name is Elizabeth Maye Gershing Malone. I'm sure she won't mind if I use her stuff, though.
My mom's hobby has always been building things. She made my crib, my baby rattle, and the cabinet wherein she put my diapers. She also taught me to build some things back when we lived on Earth, between when I turned nine, which was (according to her) old enough, and when she started getting too depressed--but that was only six months ago. Therefore, I have three and a half years of knowledge under my belt, which is enough.
I find a board about four feet by two feet, which would be good for a table, and four thick dowels. I then find a drill, some bits, and several screws.  An hour later, after various processes including marking, drilling, countersinking, screwing, and bracing, the table is complete. After that I remind myself that our house is beige with blue trim, find a can of bluey-gray paint, a brush, and a dropcloth, and paint the entire table a color that looks like a cloud that is showing a few traces of a clear sky.
Then, I leave the table to dry for a bit while I hunt for two chairs to put on the porch. Eventually I find a pair of wicker chairs, and after some more hunting, blue and white plastic lacing. I braid long strands of lacing together and lace the lacing through the chairs, so that they will now match the house and the table without me having to paint them. Cautiously, I test the table, which is dry, and then move it onto the porch with the chairs. Then, I dust off the floating boat, attach more plastic lacing to the edge, and tie it to one of the posts on the porch, where it hovers an inch or two above the ground. Our yard is still bare except for a few vines, but our house now looks more lived-in. 

My mom doesn't want to go outside for lunch.
"Are you sure?" I ask her.
"I am," she says. "The neighbors will wonder if I am sick, Enola."
"The therapist says that it's good to do something other than lie in bed all day and be sad."
"Enola, I am doing other things than that."
I bite back sarcastic responses--What, staring at the ceiling? Sitting in bed all day and being sad, as opposed to lying? The therapist, by which I mean Mom's therapist back on Earth, gave us a book of tips when we moved, and one of the tips was that I had to try to be kind to Mom--even jokes, said the therapist, might make things worse.
"Do you mind if I make some lunch?" I ask her. "I'll bring some up for you."
"Sure," she says, and then turns over in bed. 

I make some lunch, bring some to my mother, and then sit outside on the new/old furniture, eating my peanut butter sandwich.
My parents--I don't know which one, but it was probably both--named me Enola Mara Malone. Later, I discovered that it is a palindrome. If you jam all the letters together, enolamaramalone, you get a jumble that's the same left to right or right to left. The Mara and the M in Malone make a mini-palindrome themselves. This means that Enola, backwards, is alone.
And, currently, this is the definition of my life. I wonder how many children have to care for both themselves and their parents. During the last weeks before the summer break of school started, I discovered that my mom wasn't eating; now I have to make sure she's sustaining herself, as well as (preferably) getting out of bed and (even better) the house. I try to make things fun for both of us, but it is hard.
I stare across the sideyard to Elleny's house and wonder how many times she's sat on the (cheerful pink) porch furniture that the Rices have, chatting with her parents. I wonder how many times she's sat there eating lunch, in solitude, like me.
Enola. Alone.