Private High Society

[Persephone Dashiell]

"You didn't answer my question. Although I suppose I answered myself, you're out here so apparently they do let you beyond the borders."

'Court' implied royal court. Persephone didn't know the regimented ranks of the Hapans but it implied everything from Prince down to Baron. Clearly out and about trying to sow his royal oats, given models were mentioned several times already throughout the evening. Getting it out of his system before a carefully arranged marriage no doubt.

"University student."

Where she did not say. Persephone didn't need any stalkers showing up at her apartment door or waiting outside the library. Not that Zee couldn't neutralize the threat but she would prefer not to be the talk of campus after her bodyguard droid killed someone in the middle of the quad. Bit of an embarrassing legacy.

Approaching the dancing, Cora gave her a thumbs up and a wave, motioning between herself and Tavian. Persephone rolled her eyes.

"What is it you do?"


Tavian Djo

 

[Tavian Djo]

Tavian followed her eyes toward the dance floor and the individual, her friend he supposed. He swallowed at the gesture the friend made, feeling a bit out of his depths talking to this mysterious university student. Not noble then? He did not suppose so.

But the average university student did not get invited to these types of events. So... just who was she?

"They do let us out from time to time," he agreed, "Currently I do not have a proper job, sad to say. My family gave me a title, but it's very minor and I have no real authority. If I show up the actual administrators shoo me away. It's just a stepping stone. They're set on pressing me into naval service, I'm sure of it."

He grimaced.

"I would rather not."

The idea of being stuck on a vessel scouring empty space for pirates and then occasionally blowing them up - or being blown up - seemed a little ghastly.

"I'm sure that comes across as rather cowardly, I apologize. I simply don't find the idea of a full barrage of turbolasers as enthralling as my cohorts," he shrugged a shoulder. "I would much rather be at university. Are you studying archaeology? Is that how you know so much about the ruins?"

Tavian did not glance toward the dance floor again, eyes fixed on Persephone.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"So using context clues you are at least the third born in your family. Second male. The first would never be allowed to see action, got to pass on their genetic material and all."

Persephone wondered what military action the Hapan area saw. Pirates were a given. Mandos too. Perhaps a great deal of escorting vessels through the mists.

She had made the journey a few times and it had seemed daunting to navigate.

"No one should be pressed into Naval service. Apathy will get you and everyone else killed."

Very cheery Persephone.

"Archaeology yes. A minor in Art History as well. Useless degrees I'm aware, please spare any commentary."

Head inclined to the dance floor when she noticed his eyes on her. A little odd but in addition to his thick glasses perhaps he could not hear either.

"I though you had to find your friend."

Tavian Djo

 

[Tavian Djo]

“Darien?” Tavian pretended to look around, “He’s fine. This is his element.”

Hastily, Tavian swallowed a large gulp of his drink before his gaze turned back to Persephone.

“And I don’t think those degrees are useless at all. What’s the point of living without art? I am jealous, frankly. Though contrary to your suppositions, I am the first and only born - but our branch is so far removed that we hardly matter. Thirteenth in line I believe.”

He tried to maintain a cheery demeanor despite her implication that he would get people killed if he entered the Navy. That chord struck all too well and familiar in his mind, ringing of his deepest fears.

Finishing the last of his drink, he handed it to a passing waiter. He stepped toward her, hand extended and open.

“Would you like to dance?” it seemed perhaps foolish, since the dancing taking place on this floor had nothing at all in common with the graceful ballrooms of the Fountain Palace. More akin to the press at a Coruscanti concert - back before the Sith took over and turned it into a dump.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Setting her punch glass down on a nearby table, she carefully took his hand, as if it would bite her. Persephone rarely got asked to dance and was clearly skeptical of why Tavian would even bother. In her experience at these types of events folks rarely asked for a dance. It was more of a group experience and someone just happened to end up next to you.

Thirteenth in line. Only child. Odd a Hapan family would stop at just a boy, but she didn't know the dynamics of his parents.

"So Tavian, thirteenth in succession, when are you going to start living life for yourself?"

Tavian Djo ​

 

[Tavian Djo]

She let him take her hand, surprisingly warm and gentle in stark contrast to the acerbic bite of her humor. Like a sea urchin. Very colorful. Very spiny. The thin-skinned probably abhorred her.

Tavian just smiled.

"For myself?"

Thankfully, they were not on Nar Shaddaa or a Coruscanti synthpit, so as Tavian led Persephone onto the dance floor the bodies of dancers did not slam against them like buffeting waves. Those here might be letting loose but most were the tech magnates or tycoon scions or nobleborn so they still had a measure of decorum.

No matter how much spice they'd been doing in the bathrooms.

The DJ, a two-headed Troig, lifted up all four of its arms as the beat crested toward a drop.

Tavian slowed as they reached a gap and, reluctantly, let go of her hand. He turned to face her again.

"I guess... I was waiting for someone to give me permission to," he self-deprecated with a weak smile, illumined by a flash of the lights and lasers.

Had he been sleepwalking through life this entire time? Yes. And maybe he knew it too, that was the worst part. Knew it and did not want to wake up. Because then he would have to start making decisions for himself. And didn't that seem so horrible?

Tavian swayed to the music, not graceless but it was clear that he was more suited to a ballroom than a rave.

"Is it that easy?"

It did not seem that easy.

Leaning forward he spoke into her ear over the pulse of the music to be heard without yelling. "I like your dress by the way. I realized I never told you."

This close, he could smell her hair and perfume. His heart thudded in his chest.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Consider this your permission."

Persephone was surprised he never thought of this. Maybe he couldn't. If she was being forced to join a cause she didn't want the first thing on her mind would be facilitating an escape. Becoming a deck hand. Working in the belly of a luxury liner.Something. As attractive as Hapan men were, Persephone had found they lacked a few skills. No fault of their own, second class citizen and all that.

"Easy? No. Worth it? Probably." Movements were graceful as she did a small dance to at least blend in the crowd. A product of ballet lessons designed to teach her to move with all the grace of a high born socialite. "Really never thought about clearing the coffers and just...leaving?"

Surely a Prince - however minor - must have access to some type of funds. Royal types often had less liquid assets though. Land and holdings tied up.

"My dress? Oh thank you. Seemed fitting for one of the last charity bashes of the season. Didn't really expect to be dancing like this.." Not my cup of tea but a necessary evil she had decided long ago. It often allowed for conversation away from prying eyes.

Tavian Djo​

 

[Tavian Djo]

Pale green eyes widened behind the glasses at the smoothness of her movements. Graceful. Fluid. Captivating.

Not at all like an awkward student studying old ruins.

Of course, Persephone was not awkward at all. If anything, she had him on the back foot. Once again Tavian wondered who she was… not just any student that was for sure.

And granted him permission. Tavian raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe staring out the window I’ve dreamed about it,” he admitted, “but I haven’t the foggiest where I would go. They’d probably send a bounty hunter to drag me back.”

The music thrummed around them. The press of bodies grew thicker. Not oppressive, but closing in around them. Someone bumped Tavian from behind and he stopped himself crashing into Persephone, reflexively wrapping an arm around her waist. And then forgetting to let go…

Tavian realized just how close he stood to her now as they danced and he tried to communicate above the warbling bass. Close enough to make his parents disapprove had they been there. Especially with a commoner. If that’s who Persephone really was. That kind of thing was forbidden certainly. They were always going on about marrying him off to a powerful Ducha one day.

It set his pulse racing quicker still.

“If you were me, where would you go? If you could go anywhere in the galaxy right now with just a click of your heels?”

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Bounty hunter? Persephone didn't understand if he was unimportant and thirteenth in line then what the fuss would be. Either he was lying and he was more important than expected, his parents were just that controlling, or they planned on marrying him off with a large dowry in order to gain power for themselves.

Suddenly Tavian bumped into her and decided she was the most stable pillar in the universe. Arm came around her waist and she expected him to let go immediately. Yet he seemed to settle in to ask a question.

"Moon of Selun. Little gem out in the middle of nowhere where one could blend in without fuss. My parents went out there when I was first adopted. Said it was nice, we were staying out that way for a project."

Might as well drop the adoption thing with Mr. Thirteenth-in-Line before he got too cozy with the arm around her. It was hard to tell if he liked her or was just bored of all the girls in his court and found her a little different. Either way she wouldn't be seeing him after tonight so it didn't matter in the slightest.

Not that she would entertain such a notion.

 

[Tavian Djo]

“That sounds nice,” Tavian replied, gaze wistful.

Adopted. In the court of the Fountain Palace adoption was a very formal affair. He wondered if it was true for her. One did not want to blend in and be a nobody unless one was a somebody, he supposed. Surely that made a kind of sense, at least it did in his head.

He thought he should withdraw his hand from her waist but, being this close to her, he found his breath catching as he searched for the right words. No regular words would do. They had to be proper ones, or else she’d think him a buffoon. She probably already did, but… she hadn’t left yet had she?

“What sort of project?”

He wanted to know more about her. To listen to her story. The way she spoke, the way she danced. All of it enthralled him. Even if he had to struggle to hear it over the sound of the pulsing music.

Taking her by the hand, Tavian sought to lead her in a gentle, twirling spin that would end with her back to his chest and his arm around her.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Restoration of the Scar Worlds in Centrality. Still ongoing, we just don't live there full time anymore. Project is off the ground and self-sufficient according to my parents."

Persephone didn't know how to feel about being spun around. A perfectly normal way to a person her age to dance. Happened all the time at her university parties. In a more refined setting it was unheard of but this was a more 'let loose' type of social event. She was sure there had to be an non-disclosure agreement signed by multiple parties before the night was over.

Telling him where she had been would narrow down the possibilities of finding out who she was. Probably would end up thinking she was a Raaf when he got back home to search the HoloNet.

"Does it matter though? You won't see me after this. You must be the type for small talk."

Tavian Djo​

 

[Tavian Djo]

x​

The Hapan's heart dropped and he leaned further down to hear her better, face beside her ear.

"I won't?" he asked, the same ever-present melancholy in his tone deepened now. Fully expressed. "That would be a shame."

The beat of the music pulsed through the crowd, rippling like a living thing. Tavian could feel it in his core. Just as he could feel her shoulders against his chest. And the way she moved. The way he moved in turn.

The rhythm crested toward a crescendo.

"MAHRANEE!"

The Troig lifted up all four of its arms.

"LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE!"

Lights and lasers poured through the crowd, blinding and brilliant. Fog whooshed out and glitter and confetti burst, turning the air into a kaleidoscope mess. Then the bass dropped so hard that Tavian felt it might rip his stomach out.

A breathless laugh tore from his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, daring to live.

His arm around Persephone pulled her closer, gently - just enough that she could easily press free if she chose it. His nose pressed against the shell of her ear.

"Why can't I see you again?"

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Of course Persephone made some noise. One of the better social events she had been to all summer and there was a mental note to circle back to the Eve Foundation about its success.

Living in the moment came to a crashing halt when Tavian Djo asked why he wouldn't see her again. Carefully she pulled away from him, turning around and putting some distance between them. Not that there could be a lot, the dance floor was going crazy by now.

"I won't be a dalliance before you run back home and find an acceptable girl. Or your parents make you join a military campaign. Seems a little cruel to do to me, don't you agree?"

A younger, less wise Persephone would assume he wanted to be friends. More experienced now she realized he was attracted to her in some form or fashion. One didn't dance in that manner if they merely wanted to be friends.

"I'm not wrong and you know it."

 

[Tavian Djo]

"What?"

The flabbergasted (and deafened) Tavian felt a little stab through the heart.

Tavian struggled with a flash of panic it caused, made worse by the alcohol and the claustrophobic wall of bodies all around.

"I agree that would be," he said, eyes wide behind his glasses. He shook his head, "but that's not me, Persephone."

She must have assumed he was more like Darien. He supposed if the pieces fit...

"I don't date models or... or do this. I stare at rocks and clouds and I study and I think too much," he was sure half of what he said was getting lost in the music, and it probably made him look insane, "It sounds ridiculous, I guess," he said over the din of the crowd, having to move closer just to be heard, "Asking you to trust that I'm not like them."

He waved a hand, gesturing at the crowd.

"But I'm not."

Tavian extended a hand back toward her, palm up, eyes pleading and open. Defenses low enough that she could bury her sharp wit to the hilt if she so chose.

"Take a chance?"

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

It sounded good. Even if she believed he had his head in the clouds and his nose in a book, the point still remained that when push came to shove, she would be the shove. Tavian Djo had oscillated between thirteenth in line wasn't a big deal to details that painted a picture that he was in fact, a big deal to their court in some from or fashion.

"Sorry, I can't. You'll understand in the future."

He probably wouldn't but maybe if the Hapan replayed the nights events he could perhaps get an inkling or two. Flashing a sad smile, Persephone turned and left the dance area. Immediately she was almost intercepted by Zee, her hulking bodyguard droid. Given his sensors were top-notch, the droid had heard everything.

[ Are we - ]

"Going to the ship Zee. I'm tired, its late."

[ Of course Miss Persephone. Are we waiting on Miss Cora? ]

"Yes. I'll send her a message to meet us back at the spaceport. Looked like she is having a good night and I do not want to interrupt."

[ Understood. ]

The pair had planned to party into the wee hours of the morning. Persie was fairly sure her friend wouldn't make it back until then, or even notice her absence until she had checked her phone. For her? Time to take off the makeup and hide from the world.

 

[Tavian Djo]

Tavian stood there, looking a fool, and watched her go.

He was still standing like that on the dance floor, her long gone, when Darien found him - his model girlfriend in tow.

“Tav? What are you looking at.”

“There was a girl.”

“Yeah? There are loads of them here. You finally find one interesting? What’s her name?”

Green eyes blinked slowly.

“Persephone…”

“Persephone what?”

The boy shrugged and gave a dour laugh. “I don’t know.”

***

Over a month later, Tavian found himself and Darien and the rest of their crew on an excursion to Nar Shaddaa’s New Vertica City. Safer than the moon below, or so he’d been told.

He stood amidst an art gallery, admiring rare and exotic and probably stolen pieces out on display. So much history here…

“That one looks like a fat Gran,” Darien remarked, eliciting a wave of guffaws from the group of Hapans.

Tavian sighed.

There was a lot going on back home. Rumors of incursion plans and Mandalorians. Unrest at court. Pirates everywhere. Sad when somewhere on Nar Shaddaa might be safer than the Fountain Palace.

Tavian remained in front of the painting, staring at it. It wasn’t a gran at all. In fact, it wasn’t anything really. Splotches of color on canvas - an old art form. But there was a certain beauty in the chaos.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

​

A tour guide.

On one hand she wanted to strangle Purpy. On the other at least they were back working. Watching Lysander brood in a courtroom was a form of torture that most planets had outlawed. Thankfully her summer employer had come to her senses.

Dressed in a very femme suit, the university student was leading a small group of potential buyers through the gallery. Pieces Mauve had acquired in various locations, along with some some consignment that needed to be fenced through more legitimate means. All under the guise of a very respectable event. Persie understood why ; the sell and acquiring of art and artifacts was a very morally gray area and very contested.

"...this is a painting titled Golden Petals 1. It is in a three part series. Abstract, it was painted by Boulo Siesi after the Battle of Yavin. Siesi's works are well known abstracts but not much is known about Siesi herself. Historians suspect the three part petal series is the only she ever completed, yet work still continues to identity suspect paintings out of Tatooine that may bear her signature style..."

 

[Tavian Djo]

The words reached his ears first. He frowned at the cadence, recognizing it at once from his dreams.

Had Darien slipped something into his drink? Now was not the time to be hallucinating.

Tavian adjusted the closed high collar on his black suit and turned around to catch up with his group, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Impossible.

Yet there she stood, leading a group of people through the gallery. No green dress this time. Just a suit that clung to her frame.

Tavian followed, entranced, feeling a magnetic pull in the direction of that voice. That face. His feet seemed to move of their own accord. He followed the tour, a row of statues interposed between them, catching glimpses of her between the gaps in the statues.

Slipping between them, Tavian mixed in with the group of potential buyers and brokers tagging behind their guide. The Hapan boy did not look out of place, except most were far older than he.

He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced up at the painting, admiring the swirls of shimmering gold, before looking back down to her.

Persephone.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Walking backwards she was leading the group from the abstract painting to a sculpture made of scrap. Gleaming underneath the lights it was quite primitive compared to most pieces, but that was the intent. She stepped back far enough so the crowd could gather around and observe the sculpture.

"Here we have a piece by Ineas Tikartine who worked in the industrial aesthetic style. This is one of his last pieces before his death dating back to the first Mandolarian Wars."

"Tikartine pieces have many imitators, how can we tell if this is a forgery or authentic?" An elderly woman with glasses on a beaded holder spoke up, moving closer and raising her glasses up and down.

As Persephone was starting to explain why, her eyes caught a tall blonde man in the back of the crowd. Most of her patrons tonight were older and well monied. Several of these pieces would not catch the eye of a younger person unless they were decorating a corporate office and trying to impress. Even then many were fenced and best they were kept behind mansion walls.

Fuck me, its Thick Glasses.

The galaxy was not large enough. Why did he have to come here? Didn't the Hapans stay put behind their damn mists?

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Oh right, the old lady.

"Sorry Ma'am, indigestion."

"Do you need one of my tablets dear?"

"Oh, I'm good, thank you." What an idiot. "So we can tell this is an authentic sculpture by the artist marks on the bottom. Let me tilt so you can see better"

Ignoring the Hapan, Persephone went back to work gently tilting the piece so her elderly buyers could get a better look and murmur amongst themselves.

Tavian Djo​

 

[Tavian Djo]

The moment of recognition in her eyes was impossible to miss, but then she promptly ignored him.

Only fair, Tavian supposed. He showed up here, at what was apparently her place of work with no explanation.

Not exactly charming.

Yet as she went on showing the sculpture to the prospective buyers, Tavian could not help himself. Taking a step forward, hands still clasped behind his back, he glanced at the bottom of the statue before looking at Persephone.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe the artist’s signature markings are the easiest to replicate. Especially with Tikartine. And since he dealt in industrial pieces, is tool marking of any value?”

Tavian raised an eyebrow.

“What sort of material analysis do you have on the piece?”

One did not come to a Nar Shaddaa art gallery and assume that the pieces were genuine on face value. Half this gallery was probably fakes. Or at a minimum the real versions were kept in a back room vault somewhere.

An older gentleman, Chandrilan by his outfit, furrowed a brow at Tavian.

“Have you just joined us? I didn’t see you before, Mr…”

“Pal’da Tavian Djo.”

The Chandrilan’s brows rose. “I wasn’t aware the royal family was interested in acquiring a Tikartine.”

Tavian shrugged noncommittally. “Browsing. I had my eye on another piece.”

His gaze swung to Persephone.

Persephone Dashiell