I always love tracking the progress of characters throughout my life. They start as juvenile, two-dimensional characters and end up becoming like family members. They're there when I need them to learn from and be inspired by. I am also an only child. Completely unrelated to this musing.
Dev was also based on a Pokemorph, who I still hold in high regard in terms of design. (Or maybe I just think he's so well designed because his sketches hold the only good nose I've ever drawn.)
"You think it was a poison bullet?" I asked, seriously doubting that such a tiny farm would have the funds for such weaponry.
"Well," Ashton began, in a tone that I didn't like, "if it is, we'll find out in a couple hours." He paused for effect. "When I'm DEAD."
"Jesus, man, you won't die. Look, here's the gauze, you're saved," I said, waving the first aid kit at him. He glared back, but began the slow process of removing his tatty and bloodied shirt anyway. The wound puckered and swelled, but thankfully had mostly stopped bleeding. Mostly. It would be a messy operation. The blood dripped down his too-skinny torso. But I guess Mr. Barrel-Chest-13-Inch-Waist over here has no room to talk.
This story is written in a futuristic alternate-Earth in the first person. What was I thinking?! I guess I'm branching out, though, which is good. But seriously. All of my other fiction has been 3rd person/omniscient. This is strange territory for a newbie writer.
"Ain't no learnin' like gettin' tossed in the lake t'swim", as my imaginary Southern hick uncle would say.
Ok, I'm sorry the picture-writing ratio is all backwards in this post. I promise I won't make you guys read so much next time.
JUST KIDDING! HERE, HAVE MORE AWFUL