Private High Society

[Persephone Dashiell]

Of course he couldn't keep his mouth shut. A normal person would merely just wait for a quiet moment to speak to her but Tavian Djo was set on speaking where she couldn't make a scene. Well, she could have, but given the number of elderly patrons grandchildren she needed to take pieces back from when they die, decorum would be the name of the game.

"You can speak with Miss du Vain more, Pal'da, but I believe she had organic matter caught in the casting core dated to the time of the first Mandalorian War. Naturally this does not assuage any fears of someone coming across such a rare metal and constructing an even rarer sculpture. You can rest assured,however, the metals do date to the time period."

Persephone paused.

"I would encourage anyone on the fence to get their own art dealer to look, Miss du Vain does accommodate private appointments. Encourages them even. I believe she is floating around this evening. I am merely her intrepid intern for the summer season."

 

[Tavian Djo]

"Of course, thank you."

The young Hapan pal'da had no interest in this Miss du Vain, whoever she might be.

Any minute now Darien, Theron, and Serian might come stalking back into this section of the gallery trying to figure where he had wandered off to.

It seemed so absurd to Tavian that he would see Persephone again here of all places by mere happenstance. Should he take it as a sign? Some sort of destiny? Persephone did not seem to think so, but then she was working and he was interrupting. His lips twisted in a grimace as he felt the guilt of that interruption. How could he make it up to her.

"I think I have my mind made up."

Pretending to examine the sculpture, Tavian moved closer to Persephone.

"I know my mother would appreciate the Siesi."

It was beautiful and a moving work.

He took a closer step and his voice lowered.

"But do you have any special pieces tucked away?" he raised an eyebrow.

Special or, in the world of art pieces on Nar Shaddaa, not strictly legal.

A glass sculpture of a magnificent undulating fountain sat in the middle of the room. So perfect was the sculpture that every curve appeared breathtakingly lifelike. A bubbling fountain captured in glass. Of course, if it was only glass, it would not be here.

"Wintrium," Mauve explained. A glass formed from the hardening flow of the Fountain of the Ancients, sacred to the Klatooinian people. If one caught wind that she had this piece she would have bounty hunters trailing her for the rest of her days.

"Impossibly hard to cut," she looked sidelong at Quinn, "even with a lightsaber. The sculptor spent ten years of his life carving this with one. A gift for the love of his life to show his devotion."

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

If Tavian Djo hadn't made such a scene, she would have asked if he had the credits and intended to buy. Yet the idiot had already made a scene by announcing himself a Pal'da, the elderly ladies already fawning over him.

Persephone had no desire to show him the fountain. One, she has zero idea if he could be trusted. Two, he wasn't going to buy. Three, was he stalking her? Yet du Vain would have a heart attack if Thick Glasses had intending on but not all wares had been shown.

"Ladies and gentlemen I need to show the Pal'da a heavy piece in the back. Feel free to wander. Miss du Vain is around here somewhere."

Drinking probably.

"Pal'da, this way." Persephone immediately started down the hall, expecting him to keep up, heels clicking on the polished floor. "I'm sure this art statement will be up to the standards of a Prince."

 

[Tavian Djo]

"I'll be the judge of that," Tavian replied, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone at this small victory.

Perhaps pushing it too far.

But here, amid the world of high fashion and art where titles mattered, Tavian felt more at home than a dance floor near some ruins. Should he be ashamed of that? He could not help where he hailed from, or the silver spoon thrust into his mouth.

Still, Tavian would not turn away the advantages of his station when they suited him.

When they gained some distance from the others, Tavian said again in a low voice, "I promise this is complete happenstance. For whatever that's worth to you."

His boots clicked on the polished floor.

"And I do have an interest in purchasing something for mother."

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"I'm sure dear mah-ma will love this next item then."

Stopping at the end of the hallway, Persephone input a code into the door, allowing it to hiss open. The 'backroom' as it were was just as appointed as anything in the front. The pieces just tended to be more contested than the ones on the main show floor. Door slid shut behind them as she continued on, expecting Tavian Djo to keep up.

Fountain bubbled in the middle and she gestured to it.

"Wintrium. Its real, before you ask."

Crossing her arms, she stepped to the side, allowing the Pal'da to view the item for his dearest mother. She wanted to roll her eyes but there was a possibility they would get stuck in the back of her head.

 

[Tavian Djo]

"Wintrium..."

Highly illegal.

If the Hutts even knew it was here they would send an armada to get it back.

So, definitely something his mother would be interested in having in the back of the manor to show house guests. The Hutts might cause problems for Nar Shaddaa, but Hapes was another matter.

Tavian inspected the sculpture, eyes widening. No one could deny the beauty or care the artist poured into the work.

"It's real?"

No, of course it was. He didn't think Persephone would lie to him. Even if she worked on Nar Shaddaa.

"I think she'll love it. What do you think? Do you like it?"

Hesitantly, Tavian reached out a hand, then his fingers pressed against the cold, impossibly hard glasswork.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Everything in the backroom is real. Just a little more...sensitive."

Personally she didn't appreciate the piece. Too gaudy for her tastes. The type that screamed 'I have money' in all the worst ways. Anyone who picked it up was more than likely insufferable. Which made it more than perfect that Thick Glasses was the one so interested in it. Was she going to tell the truth? Of course not.

Instead she plastered on a fake smile.

"Looks amazing. I'm sure she will love it. Especially considering it is such a prized piece throughout the galaxy."

 

[Tavian Djo]

"Okay well, you don't have to lie to me," Tavian huffed. "But I still think my mother would like it. We'll take it. Send me the invoice."

Seafoam green eyes regarded the brunette haired young woman.

"Ms. Persephone... Never did get your last name."

The Hapan man squinted at her fake smile behind his glasses.

"Is..." he shook his head, "Persephone..." Tavian took a step closer to her. "Do you really think we had nothing? Am I insane?"

Maybe he was.

"I felt it. Like nothing I felt before. And then you left. Just. Just tell me to leave now and I'll go. But if you felt it too, I'm not above begging."

Despite his perfectly curated hair and apparel there was something raw and open about how he spoke.

"Do you despise me? Am I really insane?"

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Arms were still crossed, unmoving from where she settled upon first entering. An invoice was great but it also created a problem. If her summer employer knew Thick Glasses had a thing for her there would be a lot of pressure to bat her eyelashes in order to maintain a flow of credits. Flash a little clavicle and the Pal'da would probably gift her a mansion.

Listening to his ramblings, her eyebrow arced. This was not surprising. The Pal'da and his group of grimy Lost Boys had an air of drug use and overall debauchery. Probably pre-gamed before coming to the gallery, although Persephone found doing such a thing before an art gallery was gauche. If the shoe fit though.

"You really need to test the spice before you smoke it, clearly you've gotten a bad batch." One would think credits would equal better drugs. "You sound like the druggies back home. I highly advise you find a diner, get some caf and food, and go home. Home meaning Hapes."

 

[Tavian Djo]

"Persephone, I'm not high."

Tavian scowled, an unusual expression for him.

This was, as they said, a disaster.

He crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

"I do still want the sculpture though."

Frowning, the blonde boy glanced sidelong at the other objects nearby. All impossibly priceless. All utterly worthless to him in this moment. He looked at Persephone, expression that familiar melancholic smile that no one of his wealth and status should ever really wear.

"The archaeology, the Moon of Selun... was any of that true?"

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"I'll be sure Miss du Vain ships the fountain in the morning."

Afternoon when she crawls out of bed looking a mess, but same difference. It seemed he was back to being one type of emotion instead of all over the place. Oceanic eyes critically looked him up and down. She wasn't sold on the 'not high' comment but it did sober him up a little.

"Archaeology with a minor in art history" Persephone gestured around to all of the art as if to prove her point. "This is called an internship. Those of us not of the noble class need them to gain experience. Besides, it gives me something to do besides babysit my sister all summer."

A scoff at the notion that she of all people would be a liar.

"Moon of Selun is also real. Everything I've told you is real. I'm not a liar. I don't appreciate the insinuation either." Head shook slowly. "Now can I go back to my internship? I'm sure your feral friends are searching for you."

 

[Tavian Djo]

“Everything I told you is also real,” he replied at once.

Why she kept talking about this Du Vain woman he didn’t understand, but he had eyes only for Persephone in this moment. Utterly focused. Enraptured. Perhaps delusional.

“I don’t care if they’re looking for me. If you really want to go back there and talk to some old geezers, be my guest. But I would really be a coward if I didn’t tell you how I feel.”

He ran his hands through his hair and it came apart, untidy and askew in wavy blonde locks, disrupting his perfect coiff.

“There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about what you told me on Mahranee. I thought we would never meet again. That that was the only memory of you I would ever have. But here we are,” he spread his hands out to either side, “Just… just have dinner with me. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever you’re off work. I will make myself free.”

He stared.

“Please?”

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Silence stretched on for a long moment. Dating was strictly a parental-approval situation. Yet, if she looked at the situation closely, at a sideways angle, it wasn't really a date. More of a dinner. It was impractical to think her parents could approve every dinner. Maybe dinner two would make more sense. Solid logic in her opinion.

Plus, it would be a night without Miss du Vain. Not a free dinner though, there was no chance in any layer of hell that she was going to be beholden to him in any way,shape, or form. Persephone wasn't sure if he was one of those incel types that took dinner to mean she owed him something. The Pal'da could forget that.

"Tonight. Zee comes too. I'll meet you there."