Juniper,
'Let us rest, then, knowing that we will always be.' She listens to his words and hums, hums softly and sweetly and lowly. His word is like a law, something she does not wish to go against. Her sweet, wonderful, dark, hidden bull is safe beneath her wings and she longs to always keep him so. Even if she knows his sins, knows why it is he cries, knows that his heart is not yet whole, not yet healed, she also will tell you that she knows with all of her heart and soul that she will protect him.
El Rey is hers and no other should hurt him.
In time, she thinks, she will piece his dark puzzle together and sew blackhole thread in the gaps of his tapestry, effectively closing old wounds, cauterizing those that would try to bleed. Juniper is not her goddess, she is not Vespera, but by Vespera's heart, she loves more fiercely than the goddess does and lives more passionately than her deity might. The beautiful thing about mortals is their fleeting lives, packed so full of emotion that a god cannot possibly feel everything a mortal feels within their entire existence, within even a century of it.
No. Their love is precious, El Rey is precious.
So she dips her head under his, snuggling tightly into his side until her breaths sync with his, her heart beats as his does, and she drifts into a fitless slumber only he can provide.
This is her heaven.
This is her dream.
This is her home.
And her lips the secret kept, if in ashes the fire-seed slept
