Creating Freja Leonard

Freja’s personality is challenging to capture. She comes across as stoic and fierce, but she has an endearing, sentimental side she represses. Many forces influence Freja’s character. Her ups and downs are more severe than others.

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Here’s a super official description of Freja’s overall personality:

Freja Leonard is a reserved and enigmatic figure in The Diviner’s Son. She is childhood friends with Cullum Soleil, who harbors deep feelings for her. Aware of his affections, she maintains a strict emotional distance. She never explicitly rejects him but never encourages his affection. She is aware of the weight of her choices and the consequences they carry, particularly in a world where such bonds dictate survival.

Freja is shaped by an unforgiving past. Her backstory is slow to show itself in the story, because she is not one to share her trauma, or even her true thoughts, with others. Her motivations are unclear to those around her.

Despite her outward detachment, she carries a deep understanding of the people around her, especially Cullum. Her choices are deliberate, and she does not bend easily to sentiment or obligation.

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The best description of her from the current draft of the novel is as follows:

Freja Leonard was the tallest young lady he’d ever seen, though he hadn’t seen many . . . Her skin was roasted gold, a few shades deeper and darker than the doors that lined the palace hallways. Her hair was as dark as slate and shadows. The sweet pitch of her voice didn’t suit the ferocity of her expression.

From the perspective of Leander Veille

Freja’s design is one of the few that hasn’t changed much. Good for her!

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This is the most accurate illustration of Freja.

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This illustration best captures Freja’s essence.

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This is the very first sketch of Freja!

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And my favorite.

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“I yearn for the privilege . . .” She sighed under her breath. Her robes floated out the door. Her lips were glossed with bitterness, “ . . . of needing nothing from anyone. 
	
Mystified, his gaze followed her out the door, slipping down the skirts of her robes, fixing on her ankles, until he couldn’t catch more of her. 

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Howdy, father. I posted for you. See you next time.