Private Foiled

[Persephone Dashiell]

“I prefer not to be the talk of the school. Against my better judgement I will meet you outside. Give me a moment.”

It was mildly annoying to be the rational person in this situation. Who said growth was fun? First she had to be on her best behavior because of the school and needing to finish. Second, she didn’t want to end up in those Society Papers that floated around the High Republic that she got into a fight with golden number one son, Lysander von Ascania . That would be horrific for her reputation and for any little fans Lysander had accumulated throughout the years.

A horde of teenage girls bashing her on the HoloNet because she dared yell at the blonde bastard? Didn’t need that all over her ZikZok comments.

---

Having changed back into her normal clothes and with a bag over her shoulder, she and Hallorand here exchanging rather loud whispers about the entire situation as they walked. She appreciated her friends concern but really she viewed the meeting as a massive annoyance.

“..and you think this is a wise idea? Wake up Persie.”

“No I don’t think this is a wise idea at all. I don’t even want to do it but rumors. Last thing I need is to snub a precious noble son and it catches fire. Besides, I hate his guts, what is he going to do?”

“I-I don’t know. He just seems arrogant.”

“They all are. Tell you what, watch from across the street if that makes you feel better. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With Zee in tow, eyes looked around for a shock of blonde and found it quickly. Taking a deep breath, Persephone squared her shoulders and marched over. Chin held high, she regarded him once more once they were in range, steeling herself for whatever words were going to come her way.

"Go ahead."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Persephone Dashiell ​

Lysander's gaze lingered upon Perephone, and instead of the usual sharp retort ready on his tongue, he found himself nodding in agreement, her words being ones that could not easily be dismissed.

"Fair enough," he offered quietly, his tone carrying no edge. "I have no desire to be the talk of this school either."

His eyes flicked away for a moment. “Take the time you need. I can wait.”

There was no smirk, only acknowledgement.

Minutes passed and the locker room slowly grew quiet, echoes of sparring fading away. Lysander drew a breath, folding the fencing gear neatly, and setting it atop the mask on the bench.

Order and precision, even in the small things, always steadied him.

By the time he left, he adorned a beige tunic. It felt strange to not be covered in black from head to toe. The fabric was crisp, fastened with a high collar, finding comfort in the formalwear that was undeniably refined. Dark trousers followed, which fell to polished boots.

While waiting, he adjusted the cuffs, preparing himself to face her not as a fencer, but as himself.

“I don’t usually look back. But seeing you here, it felt wrong not to say something. That night on Naboo the sleigh ride, the way it ended. I regret it. I regret how I left you with that.”

He drew in a slow breath, shoulders rolling.

“Life Day was supposed to be fun, and I turned it into something else. That’s on me. I can’t change it, but I can own it.”

His jaw flexed, the words resisting to leave him, fingers lingering on the cuff of his tunic.

“I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t even really expect you to care. I only wanted you to hear it from me before I leave Naboo."

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

He was certainly right about both things ; she didn't care and she certainly didn't forgive him. Persephone didn't hold any type of daily hate for Lysander von Ascania but at the same time she didn't think about him either. The conversation they were having - or he was having - was all a little too late in her opinion. That this entire conversation was performative and more for him than for her.

Eyebrow arched as she regarded his form, the fingers lingering on the cuff of his tunic. Something was off and the teenager was fairly certain she knew what it was.

"You on drugs or something?" A small pause, he certainly looked like it. "All part of your plan of getting sober? Follow the twelve steps? Try to right the wrongs?"