C. D. - character development

flaggirl3 wrote:Dylan: I piped up and said, "I am a lost boy." Seriously, listening to these aliens was starting to give a headache, and I definitely was lost.

Victor: "Sir, I doubt that you and I attach the same import to that phrase. You appear to be a young lad, not a monster with a steam-gun bolted into the flesh of your arm. I find it hard to believe that your eyes are really high-power searchlights."

Plus, Victor isn't an alien at all. He's from Coventry.

((And how many times do I have to say it? Peter and Nike aren't aliens either! They're still humans; they're just foreign! *is growing frustrated*))

"Seriously, kid," Peter said with one eyebrow raised, frowning slightly. "The guy already explained what Lost Boys are. Clearly, you are not one of them."
I find him to be of lower intelligence, I thought to Peter. He's pretty annoying, too.
Yeah, I sorta gathered that, Peter thought back.

((The funny thing is, my real name is Peter, so it's a little amusing reading your replies ))

Victor: "Be fair, he may be a lost boy in a rather different sense. However, it is important to be clear on the distinction. It could get messy if someone made a mistake."

Dylan: "Alright. Sorry, whatever you guys think. I'll just keep my mouth shut." I slumped even further down into my chair. I wished the rain outside would lighten up so I could go home.

((Ah, is it? Nice to meet you, Peter xD (As an aside, my name is Susan.)

I always think it's so weird when I talk to people who have the same names as my characters. It's like...I dunno, it's just bizarre. I often feel awkward, though I hide it well.

This Peter is one of the main characters in my story, if not the main character. He's not the one with the crazy-awesome, multiverse-saving powers, nor is the one who everyone is looking to to save the multiverse, but he's the one who's calling the shots. Well, for his own team, anyway. The person who does have the crazy-awesome powers takes orders from him.

Oh, fun/awkward story! See, Peter dies at the end of the second book. I had actually just finished writing his death scene (I haven't even completed the first book, but this was just such an amazing scene to write) when this other guy named Peter walked by. He was like, "Hi, Susan!" and I was like, "Oh...hi... ^-^;" Heh. Okay, I'm done.

Oh wait, no I'm not! Nearly forgot. I should mention right now that thought conversations are almost instantaneous, and take place in the matter of a few seconds. I'm saying this now because there's some slightly extensive thought dialogue in this post. Remember, though it seems longer while you're reading it, it's just a few seconds long. Okay, now I'm done.))

The kid looked pretty glum.
"Pfff, you're not truly lost," Peter said, somewhat testily. Ahh, I understood now. That's why he was acting a little harshly. "You still have a home to return to, don't you? At least one parent who cares about you, I'm assuming?" You have no reason to be a brat, he concluded in his head.
Well, Peter, at least you had the decency not to say that out loud, I mentioned. But don't you think you're being just a bit too hard on him? You needn't take him so seriously.
Peter gave a mental sigh.
...Yeah, I guess you're right. Sometimes I wonder why you're not the leader. You're two years older than me, anyway. And far more level-headed.
That may be true, but you're the one with all the experience. You're the planner. You're also a heck of a lot more charismatic than I am. You've got the leader skills. Me, I'm just not cut out for it. I'm happy to follow orders and take commands, especially with the knowledge that they're coming from someone who knows exactly what he's doing.
I could tell that the praise made him embarrased; I could feel it wafting from his mind.
Thanks, he thought.

???: Can we join?

((I don't see why not. I'm not the OP, though, so I dunno.))

Book Title: My Life in Color

Name: Cassie Fasion
Age:16
Physical appearance: Strawberry blond hair, green eyes, about 5'4
Bio: Cassie is a writer, she often writes poems and prefers to be alone. Once she meets Evan everything changes, he helps her come out of her shell. But when she learns his secret will she be able to help him?


Name: Cassie Fasion
Age: 17
Physical appearance: Brown hair, hazel eyes, about 5'9
Bio: Evan's secret is that he is abused by his father. He tells cassie not to tell because he is afraid of what his father will do. Evan is an artist.

Dylan: I looked at Peter a little awkwardly. For some reason I could tell this guy did not like me and I didn't really enjoy having him around. Right now I didn't even want to be around. I told Peter, "Yeah, I do have a family to get back to. And a life. I was supposed to call my girlfriend tonight, but apparently that isn't going to happen."

"Count your blessings," Peter said, leaning back in his seat. "Not everyone gets those luxuries." His tone illustrated an underlying meaning. "Feel lucky that you'll be able to call her tomorrow. And the next day. Be grateful that you can see your family, feel their arms around you as they hold you. I have to say, I'm envious. I wish my worst problems were not being able to call my girlfriend--which, by the way, I don't have. I wish I could be bothered by mundane things like having too much homework. If I've been callous while talking to you, it's only because when I hear you take these things for granted, it stings. No, it burns. Because I'll never have the same opportunities."
Sometimes I forget that Peter is only sixteen years old.
Sometimes I forget, too, he thought wistfully.

Sorry still new to this. Um...fill me in a little?

((Rather than having a script-style chat (which is actually highly informal), this chat requires you to write in paragraphs. Or did you mean what's been going on here?

Basically, we're all just hanging out in a house that isn't ours. In fact, we don't even know who owns it. We were all just trying to escape from the rain, actually. You can use that as a reason to enter.

Character rundown:
Dylan is a pretty average kid. No special powers or anything (as far as I know...?).
Peter and Nike are both from different universes. They can see/commune with souls, on top of some other sizeable powers.
Victor is a weird dude who got randomly blasted through the door (which is pretty busted up now). We don't really know a whole lot about him just yet.))

"It's really comming down!" Evan shouted over the rain. "Look!" He said pointing to an abandon run down house.

"Let's go in!" Cassie said running to the door. "It's blasted through!"

"What the heck happened here?! Hey! Wait up!" He yelled, following Cassie through the dark house.

"Hello anybody here?" Cassie asked in the dark.

((Perhaps I should've clarified, but the house isn't dark, nor is it abandoned or run-down. And we're all actually in the living room, to which the front door immediately opens. Well, I suppose the door is always open now, but still.))

"I'm sorry but we were also trying to escape the rain. I'm Evan and this is Cassie." He said as he tugged at his sleeves to make sure the bruises were covered.

I looked over at the two newcomers.
"Come on in," I said. "It's not our house, and random strangers keep dropping in anyway. I'm Nike, and this is Peter."
Peter gave a small wave without really looking at them; the gesture was somewhat curt, but it wasn't like he was in a great mood.

((Nike's name is pronounced "nee-kei."))

"Thanks. So who are you guys?" said Evan. "Do you live nearby?" Evan looked at Cassie, who had pulled out her notebook and was writing feverishly.

Victor: "I am sorry to say that I do not live here. Or, for that matter, now. My name is Victor Lourdes, painter and artiste from the fair city of Coventry, and I am enchanted to make your acquaintances." Victor bows low with a flourish. "Tell me, did you see anything out of the ordinary outside in the rain? Anything like beams of light or men with metal heads?"

"Your Victor Lourdes?! I love your work! It's truly inspiring! No, I didn't see any lights. Why do you ask?" said Evan.

"I did," Cassie said quitely. "They were really bright."

Dylan: I looked over to the newcomers and gave a small wave, "Hey, I'm Dylan," I said. Though I thought I was a beat behind on the formal greetings.

"He asked if you saw lights," I explained, bored, "because there are people with machine parts grafted to their skin lurking about. They have flashlight-like eyes, apparently."
"I thought he said their eyes were like high-powered searchlights," Peter added, leaning his chin on his hand.
"Whatever," I dismissed.

Victor: "Really? I am glad to see that we're in the company of a true connoisseur of art, master Evan. Tell me, did you prefer my painting of Madam Noir reclining, or of Madam Noir putting her foot through the head of a Lost Boy?" Victor strokes his pathetic goatee and smiles at the fact that someone actually likes his art. He suddenly realises what Cassie has said. "Lights? What colour? Kind of greenish yellow?"

(Is it too late to join this?)

"Lost boy," said Evan. "But I liked them both. I have some scetches in my backpack." He added, while rumiging through the bag.

"Yes," Cassie said. "They were strange and in a blink they were gone."

(((To jelsa))) I don't know.