#jess braddick

[secretly-a-catamount]

So, I made the Main Six of the Serafina Series using Pitcrew Character Creator. Specifically, this one by Hunbloom.

Anyway, without further ado, here’s the designs I managed to come up with.

Serafina:

Braeden Vanderbilt:

Lady Rowena Fox-Pemberton:

Waysa:

Essie Walker:

Jess Braddick:

I’m not so sure on some of the outfits, and I wish this had some scar options, but overall I really like its performance, the art, and the designs I was able to come up with. My favorite is probably Rowena or Serafina.

[smolandweirdwriter]

guys guys GUYS I’M GOING TO SEE BILTMORE SOON

[secretly-a-catamount]

I had to do this for our main six!

Side Note: Does their friend group have a name yet in the fandom?

[secretly-a-catamount]

I updated this work for Braedafina/Serafaeden Week. The prompts I used were Post Series, Class, and Stargazing (although the last one’s the weakest).

————————————————————————

  The eighteen year-old girl watched her reflection in the looking glass with a weary gaze. Could she pass for a boy? It was critical that she could, but Serafina worried that she couldn’t.

  Even dressed the way she was (long-sleeved shirt, long trousers, concealing coat), with her features softened and scars erased by Rowena’s magic, and her mane of black hair — brushed and braided for once — tucked up under a hat, Serafina worried she couldn’t.

  And she had to. She simply had to.

  Everything hinged on it. Everything.

  “Miss?” Essie’s voice penetrated Sarafina’s wooden door, the Lady’s Maid right on the other side. “Are you getting along all right in there? You don’t need any help?”

  Serafina wrenched herself away from the mirror and padded over to the door, unaccustomed to the heavy boots currently swallowing her feet.

  As Essie Walker buzzed into the room, Serafina was surprised to see that her friend had let her dark, curly hair down for once and wore a sunshine-yellow dress.

  “Essie, you’re comin’ with me? Jess—“

  “The baby.” Essie said in answer, running her hands down the dress’ skirt, fingers trailing across tiny daisy embroidered in the fabric. The baby was not Jess and Essie’s child, but simply the newest orphan child that the two had a voluntary hand in raising.

  A second knock on the door, the sound as gentle and kind as the man who made it.

  Braeden’s clothing was as inconspicuous as Serafina and Essie’s were, bland, basic, boring and forgettable. The best feature of his disguise, however, was the lack of Gidean. It was distressing for Serafina to see her lover without his trusted dog, the Doberman was one of the only reasons that she ever let Braeden out of her sight with any regularity. She trusted her friends and family — no one else, of course — but the black dog was the only one she trusted with Braeden’s life completely besides herself.

  So to see Braeden without Gidean, while knowing that she hadn’t been with her best friend on the short walk from his room to hers, set Serafina’s nerves on edge. (Paranoia. That what the doctors said. Foolish, Serafina thought, because it wasn’t paranoia if everything was actually out to get you.)

  Despite her thoughts scuttling about like drunken mice, she sculpted her face into a smile as Braeden walked over to her and pressed his lips to her temple, and then, a moment later, under his soft touch and his softer reassurances, her smile was genuine. (Or as genuine as any of her smiles ever were. Which was to say half-sincere, half-threat.)

  “Are you ready, my love?”

  “Always.”

  “The two of you make me want puke.”

  “Come on now, Ess,” Serafina teased, “It can’t be any worse than the time you walked in on us—“

  Brown eyes widening, Braeden slapped a hand over Serafina’s mouth. “We talked about this! It — it never happened!” He sputtered, his cheeks flaming.

  Essie simply raised an eyebrow (Serafina had always wanted to be able to do that) and pursued her lips. “If you say so, Braeden.”

  She turned and practically bounced to the doorway, stopping only to call over her shoulder, “If you don’t hurry up, love-bugs, this wedding’s going to happen without you.”

  Well-worn boots with mud in their treads made their way down cut bricks, weak winter sunlight shining through glass panes, the air dense and thick, wet and heavy, wrapping around the young man like a doused wool coat.

  He found his aunt sitting at a small, circular table near the middle of the greenhouse, soft hands delicately folded around a cup of steaming tea, nails slightly pointed and painted a gentle sea-shell pink. She wore a plum-colored dress and a shawl around her shoulders made of gray wolf fur.

  Braeden took the seat opposite her, his leg-brace creaking, and took a swig of his own drink, letting the sugary and syrupy liquid settle on his tongue, letting the chill radiate into his aching hands. He swallowed, then spoke. “You called for me?”

  “I did. I felt that we needed to discuss some . . . upcoming events.” She was perfectly poised, still as a marble statue.

  “You mean my proposal to Serafina.” Braeden said flatly, the sweet-tea suddenly bitter and cloying in his mouth.

  “Yes.” Edith responded, crossing her ankles. “That is what I would like to discuss.”

  “And what part of it exactly would you like to discuss?”

  “Its entirety. The fact of the matter is that you simply cannot marry her.”

  “And why is that?” Braeden clutched the glass so hard his knuckles went white. He took several shallow breaths and then set the glass down gently. Edith watched his repressed anger hungrily, her dark gaze stabbing through him like a needle through an insect.

  “Now, darling, don’t be upset. I simply want what’s best for you, what’s best for the whole family, and I’m not certain that Serafina is . . . right for you.”

  “I love her. I will always love her.” Braeden responded, wondering not for the first time in his life if it was normal to want to claw your aunt’s face off.

  “Will you? You’re at a difficult age, Braeden, one where, if not properly guided, you’ll make decisions you’ll later regret.” For a second her face was a paper-mask, her smile drawn on by a crooked hand, her eyes flat and dull, and then he blinked, and she wasn’t, back to a flesh-and-blood woman whose only signs of aging were the threads of silver woven into her dark hair and the faint lines at the edge of her dark eyes and pitiless mouth. “And that’s to say nothing of how it would . . . look. While I don’t believe it, people do talk and, well, they say the most . . . dreadful things about your Serafina. About what she actually wants out of your relationship.”

  A ugly flush spread across Braeden’s face, the idea that anyone would ever think that of Serafina disturbed him.

  Edith calmly took a sip of her tea, as if she hadn’t just ripped his world to shreds with her soft voice and perfectly manicured nails. Her movements were precise and controlled, calculated, and Braeden suddenly felt that his aunt wasn’t human at all, but something mechanical, made of gears and wires, completely and utterly unable to be pursued by matters of the heart simply because she did not have one.

  “I do.” His voice was steady.

  “Than I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss—“

  The rest of the officiant‘s words were cut off by Serafina’s lips and the feeling of her fingers entwining in his hair.

  Somewhere behind them Essie and Waysa cheered, while Rowena was almost certainly being the source for the polite clapping.

  “Braeden, darling, you really do have to consider the consequences of your actions.” 

  “I have.”

  “Than you see—“

  “I don’t care what you want.” He interjected, standing abruptly. “I care that she’ll be happy, that is my main priority and it will always be my main priority, and if you can’t understand that,” he looked away for a moment, took a deep breath, and then continued, “I will marry her. With or without your permission.”

  “Braeden, wait!”

  But he was already gone.

  “You really missed something,” Essie nuzzled her head in the crook of Jess neck, “I almost cried.”

  “Waysa did cry.” Rowena said, leaning against the unlit fireplace.

  “So?” Waysa (who was sitting on the couch with Jess and Essie) countered, “I cry when I’m happy.”

  “I must make you cry often then.”

  “Quiet frequently.”

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, Braeden and Serafina sat on the windowsill, unaware of their friends teasing.

  Braeden whispered to her, his mouth gently brushing against her ear, “I used to sit on this windowsill every night and wish on all the stars that I’d have someone who would love me one day.”

  “You sound as if you still don’t believe it.” Serafina whispered back, smiling.

  “Of course I don’t,” Braeden admitted, “what man could possibly look upon a goddess such as yourself and believe that you choose him?”

[secretly-a-catamount]

Rowenas If I fall . . .?

Waysa: I’ll be there to catch you.

Serafina: *looks at Braeden* What if I fall?

Braeden: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Jess: *watches these two interactions*

Jess, to Essie: And if I fall . . .?

Essie: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

—————————————-

Serafina: Braeden is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do?

Jess: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Rowena: Tackle him.

Essie: Dump him.

Waysa: Kick him in the shin!

Braeden: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!

—————————————

*The Squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*

Serafina: I will not let you down.

Braeden, mustering enthusiasm: Sounds fun.

Waysa: No, I'm not.

Jess: Please god, I am so tired.

Essie: Do I have to be?

Rowena: I’m the villain.

———————————————

*The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love*

Jess: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you.

Essie: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way . . .

Braeden: *has a panic attack* What confession?

Serafina: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too.

Waysa: So what? Are you going to date me or not?

Rowena: It was a dare.

——————————

Jess: Stressed.

Waysa: Depressed.

Rowena: Possessed.

Essie: Obsessed.

Braeden: Impressed.

Serafina: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Serafina: I just wanted to join in.

————————————-

Jess: If you put 'violently' in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier.

Jess: Violently practices.

Rowena: Violently studies.

Waysa: Violently sleeps.

Waysa: Violently shoots pictures.

Essie: Violently boxes.

Serafina: Violently murders people.

Braeden: Violently worries about the previous statement.

——————————-

*after the Squad has been separated for a few years*

Waysa: So what have you been up to recently? Braeden: Leading a revolution with Serafina.

Waysa: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob.

Braeden: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome!

Waysa: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Rowena?

Braeden: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Essie?

Waysa: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Jess?

Braeden: Cult leader.

Waysa: Yeah, that sounds about right.

——————————-

Jess: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Serafina: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back . . .

Braeden: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Waysa: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Essie: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Rowena: Mental stability, my old friend!

Jess: Goodness, could you guys lighten up a little?

——————————-

Serafina, to the Squad: I’d die for you.

Jess: Then perish.

Rowena: You will.

Waysa: Please don’t.

Essie: Cool.

Braeden: I’d die for you first, Serafina.

[secretly-a-catamount]

Serafina Series Pinterest Boards | Part One

Jess Braddick: Here

Lady Rowena Fox-Pemberton: Here

Braeden Vanderbilt: Here

Serafina: Here