Persephone Dashiell
It's Called Fashion Sweetie
CITY OF KEREN, NABOO
Keren Select Academy for Young Sentients
"What's with the eye roll Hallorand?" Persephone turned to putting on her sabre fencing gloves on. Finishing touches before taking the floor for their next fencing lessons. Across the way on a separate set of benches, other students were getting ready for their own matches.
"The lipstick. You will have a mask on." Elio motioned to her face, as if to remind her of what she just did.
"Oh. All I need is one of the instructors passing by claiming I don't look 'presentable'. As if we aren't about to be sweating to death." One glove and cuff on, she turned her attention to the other. "Do you know the guest fighter? I haven't heard a word of his name."
Elio shook his head, gearing up himself.
"No clue. Most likely some poor bastard son just found by some noble. Mistress came running back to see that the boy would be attended to. Why else would we not know about him? Rumors of his fighting prowess suggest street urchin found by dear Papa. Otherwise he would have been in our circles."
Persephone shrugged. Elio had a point, although the galaxy was large enough to not know every noble and wealthy family. Perhaps someone from the far Outer Rim - Wild Space perhaps. Either way, she was up first. Rising from the bench, Persephone looked back at Elio.
"Wish me luck."
Putting her fencing mask on as she walked, the teenager moved to the center of the gym.
