“I know he looks rough around the edges, you’ve just caught him at a horrible time. He’s normally softer spoken than even Nathan,” I told someone. She was injured and laid up in the bed of an old house. It was dank and musty, cobwebs clung to the corners of the room. Beyond the old wooden door, people milled about the hallway.
The girl’s face was drawn, sad; her eyes were puffy from crying.
A light rap on the door drew our attention. Nathan stood in the doorway. His blonde hair had been left to grow and hung in loose waves around his broad shoulders. The golden beard he wore was manicured closely around his jaw.
“I was just making sure everything was alright,” he asked, sunkissed skin crinkling at his eyes as he smiled.
“Fine, I think Nicholai’s outburst upset her more was all.” He nodded sagely, hands in his back pockets.
“I’ll talk to him if you like.” I only nodded. I changed out the cool clothe that I had against the girl’s forehead. It wasn’t minutes before Nicholai stood in the doorway. He had filled out over the years, weight and health filled his clean shaven cheeks. He rested one large hand casually on the top of the door frame.
“We can’t stay long.”
“You’ll stay as long as you need. She needs rest.”
“And what happens if they come here,” he almost snapped. I raised a challenging eyebrow and rose from the bed. I was anything but intimidating, though he still backed down; brown and gold eyes cast to the dark wooden floor at his feet.
And that’s about when I woke up. I never dreamed of my characters before. Imagine my surprise when i opened my eyes and realized I’d just seen them clearly for the first time. They were individuals, not some actor that I’d chosen to look like them. They were living and breathing. There was nothing cartoony or fake.