Juniper,

Peace permeates the world as red and pink burst over a field of gold, a field that is home to lovers and quarrels, to animals both tame and wild. Antelope skip merrily below, ignorant to the winged thing in the sky who is not a bird. (Oh, but she is a goddess, she is the pale hand of Vespera bearing love and judgement and ruination and resurrection.) Her shadow on the ground is the only sign of her passing.

Here, there are no tree boughs that hold her, that flirt with ash-strewn wings, that play games and make her dodge and dive and challenge her.

If one but looks up, would they see a girl flying fancy-free within the skies, or would she be a cloud rolling overhead in slow circles? Overy now and then she dives, swooping down closer and closer to the earth just to feel the curve of the world rise up underfoot. At the last minute she banks, turning pale cheek away from disaster, laughing green eyes shooting heavenward once more where she is held.

Juniper is the silent observer, the unbound reveler, a priestess learning a new way to love.

So when a woman she’d heard of, come to see herself, stands still and quiet in the fields where even rabbits lie together and chat, she cannot help but come down. Soft, so soft is her downfall. Circling lazily, slowly, she drifts to a stop when feet touch the ground. And how near she is!

Reach forward and she could touch Marisol, run ebony kissed lips over wing that smells of salt and battle. But she does not, she does not. “I’ve disturbed your meditation,” she observes apologetically. Times of reflection are near sacred in the temple, allowing for growth and improvement. Shame flushes pale cheeks with color, draws bright eyes down.

They cannot stay there.

Rising like the tides within Marisol’s soul, spring bright eyes dip and swoop and sway over the body of the Commander just as she had done in the clouds just moments ago. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she confides with that ethereal smile.

“Speaking.”

In speech, my heart before her faints and diese

Juniper,

She is dark and she is beautiful, the way beige gaze moves up, up, up to the girl with curious new-green eyes. Juniper drinks in the Commander like a river, like a lake, like a woman starving for more than just the stagnant waters of her precious swamp. It is not long before a reply is given, a reply to the goddess-girl, the priestess' child, and Marisol's words are not hard.

Unlike warpaint upon skin, there is an inquiry there, brooking room for answers to questions given and asked. If fear were to take another's hearts, it would find no room in Juniper's.

The dove Pegasus is freedom incarnate, she is laughter, she is reckless and beautiful.

So she does not fear when Marisol speaks, even daring to chuckle and shake her head. "I am sorry it went so poorly, at home they would have made you try even harder should you admit to such things." Black framed eyes seem to glisten with interest, gleaming under the light, under the attention when the other woman brushes over her.

For a moment, the priestess wonders what exactly it is the Commander finds.

But she cares so little for that now, not when her shoulders square and crown tips towards the sky. Thoughtful, perhaps, could be used to describe the way Juniper is now. "I would very much like to join the Halcyon Unit. I am Juniper of Terrastella, from the recesses of the swamps. There, I was trained under the tutelage of many Priestesses of Vespera, shown the way in those wilds where so few could survive."

And there is a hunger that licks at her belly.

"I have heard of Halcyon growing up and Vespera all my days. Now, I aspire to do more than dance and run wild in a swamp. If you'd have me, I should run and dance and be wild among your soldiers, but I would learn to fight and I would listen; I would learn of you and your soldiers, Marisol. Vespera gifted Halcyon and his soldiers long ago, and where she leads I shall follow until she draws the last breath from my lungs." What more could she say? Already, Juniper could almost trip over her own tongue, but not quite. Not yet.
So her eyes fall from the heavens like a meteor.

They land hard and soft and shatter upon Marisol once more, looking at the many shades of chocolate and cream upon her skin. "And perhaps I could help with your meditations?" There is laughter returned at last, and oh how it tastes like a summer breeze.

“Speaking.”

In speech, my heart before her faints and diese

Juniper,

Suspicion is an unending pool in the Commander’s eyes, raking over every minute nuance of pale ivory visage as one would pile leaves in their yard. Everything about Marisol is meticulous and well thought out – from the sharpness of her gaze to the careful curling of her mouth as it tilts down, down, down to the earth which holds so many children.

But it does not hold the pale girl-goddess before the Commander.

Only the skies wrap their arms about her, their cool breath tickling her ears, their soft songs a lullaby to sing a girl to sleep every night in the swamps. There is no fear in her heart as she looks upon Marisol, and she does not mind the unexpected pleasure that runs through her skin when the darker woman’s lips turn up, up, up where they belong. A sense of triumph and welcome spreads, hungrily devouring supple flesh until she feels as though her swamp has reached far and wide, her sister’s prayers splaying over the land until they find her again.

This could be home.

“Nothing is lost unless you let it be so,” she breathes, solemnity a noose about her neck. There is a gravity in the girls’ words, a knowingness in the tilt of her head; she does not elaborate, but merely bobs narrow crown up and down, exuberant in her attentions.

Words are not murmured but roared, pride and eagerness filling the commander even as it pulses through the Priestess’ heart. She raises her wings proudly, head high and eyes bright as she nods. “A Hierophylakes,” Juniper breathes. Then, with a flourish she dips her head low, wings parallel to the ground. “It would be an honor to bring Vespera back into the folds of the Halcyon, Commander.” As ferocity fills her tone, there is nothing but a barbaric grin upon dual-toned lips and determination in those green, green, life-giving green eyes. “Through any battle, through every battle, and feast and celebration and grievance, I will stand beside you and among you. Train me to be brave and bold, and with Vespera as my witness I will not squander your time and guidance. Let me be her voice to your troops, and I will keep her close to all of our hearts, always.”

Conviction is threaded into the very blood that burns in her veins, unending devotion to a goddess she has never seen, yet would never abandon, is clear in the reverent tones that echo from her throat. No, Juniper will not fail her Goddess, and she will not fail her Commander.

Vespera would be with the Halcyon once more, her words as prayers upon her lips, and her hymns as guidance when there would be war.


“Speaking.”

In speech, my heart before her faints and dies