Two of them, actually. The first is named Mirren. He’s 6’8″, has a lot of tattoos, and swears like a vampire trucker. The other is Galen, with long dark hair, eyes the color of an antarctic glacier (especially when he’s hungry), and a bad habit of turning broody and morose and behaving like the Irishman he once was.
They’re sitting in an imaginary Alabama town called Stockholm, pouting and feeling neglected while I–their creator–run around New Orleans with a wizard, a shapeshifter or two, and an undead pirate.
How long can I keep them at bay? Do your fictional characters ever stalk you?