Juniper
drink from the presence of saints, not from those other jars
She is no new sinner learning to repent, she is no green girl still unsure of the gods. No. Confidence fills soft strides, devotion is an unending well in pale eyes. Juniper is a vision dressed in white, weaving through the pillars along the edge of the temple as though this were where she rests her head, this most holy (and neglected) place in Terrastella is her home. Of all the bustling houses and city streets, this is where the Pegasus finds her feet the most grounded.
Like a daughter returning home, she goes through open doors just after the dark child. She hears his whisper, his wonder, and remembers the very same awe upon discovering the statue of Vespera within her own swampy Temple. A smile lights her face like the dawn, like a sunflower opening wide to receive its light, and she steps beside him. Wings splay wide, going up, up, up above even Ulysses' head, and then one casually droops across his back as she smirks. "Vespera," Juniper says. It is the answer to her every prayer, the plea she cries at night or in the throes of passion, the single being who feels most like home whenever she is away from home. Vespera, and it is a chant within her that cannot be silent.
"And I am Juniper. Who are you?" she parrots back, pale brow raising as a phantom breeze lifts her hair from the grounds, winds fingers through his tail and tangles them together for but a moment. Attention, so scattered and distraught before, is solely upon the boy now who stands taller than her even in his youth. Height has never been her issue, in the end, and does not bother her as she lays that smile of sunlight and flowers and tempests upon him at last.
"Speaking."
Like a daughter returning home, she goes through open doors just after the dark child. She hears his whisper, his wonder, and remembers the very same awe upon discovering the statue of Vespera within her own swampy Temple. A smile lights her face like the dawn, like a sunflower opening wide to receive its light, and she steps beside him. Wings splay wide, going up, up, up above even Ulysses' head, and then one casually droops across his back as she smirks. "Vespera," Juniper says. It is the answer to her every prayer, the plea she cries at night or in the throes of passion, the single being who feels most like home whenever she is away from home. Vespera, and it is a chant within her that cannot be silent.
"And I am Juniper. Who are you?" she parrots back, pale brow raising as a phantom breeze lifts her hair from the grounds, winds fingers through his tail and tangles them together for but a moment. Attention, so scattered and distraught before, is solely upon the boy now who stands taller than her even in his youth. Height has never been her issue, in the end, and does not bother her as she lays that smile of sunlight and flowers and tempests upon him at last.
