History

Born in the salty air of a fishing village on the coast of Maine, Juniper Quill came into the world with a caul over her face and a mother who knew what that meant. The third daughter of a long line of women with witch blood, June was raised on tinctures and tea leaves, raised to listen more than speak, and to keep her magic close until the world asked for it. It rarely did, but a restless youth drove her onto the road to ply her trade and expose herself to the world in all its variety.

She drifted from town to town, peddling cures and charms for the price of a loaf of bread or a clean bedroll. She had years of plenty, and years of nothing. Years where she felt adored, and others when she was run off with lit torches. Her heart has known tenderness and shattering both, most notably when she fell in love with a widowed liveryman outside of Chicago, and spent five long, difficult years trying to mend his broken spirit, despite that her specialty lay in mending the physical. He took his own life while she lay sleeping in the next room. She has never again assumed she can fix what doesn't want fixing, but the aftermath of this single event continues to reverberate through June's life.

Filled with heartache and guilt, she dropped to her knees and prayed for deeper understanding of her patients' pains, so that she might better heal them. The angel that answered, Tabris, provided a blessing that was more of a curse: June was given the literal ability to feel the pain of those around her. Stubbed toes, festering wounds, yes, but also the crushing loneliness of the widowed, the gnawing shame of the outcast, the cold, spiraling panic of a mother who has lost her child. It is a gift that makes June deeply effective, but also deeply fragile. Her eccentric appearance masks a mind perpetually walking the edge between empathy and overwhelm.

Juniper came to Never by way of a debt repaid: A circus carriage gifted to her after saving the life of a trapeze artist some five years prior. It remains her home, modest and warm, tucked just past Downtown in the less-populated area of Hillside. In Never, she's found what feels like her final landing spot. The mining company covers her rent in exchange for tending their sick and broken, and the town folk mostly adore her, or at least find her useful. She's restless, rarely comfortable, but rooted now, like a wildflower growing through a crack in the desert stone.