Private High Society

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Mineral water, flat will be fine Astol."

"An excellent choice."

"Astol?"

"Yes, Miss Dashiell?"

"Ensure I receive the check this evening. Or you may give it to Zee."

"Would you rather have it go to your tab, Ma'am?"

"Either or. I'll let you decide. Can't let word get back to the family the bill I've been running up since my internship. They might end up deciding my allowance has been far too generous over the years."

"We can clear the tab this evening after your meal, Miss Dashiell. Speaking of family, how has Miss Arceneau and Mrs. Arceneau-Dashiell been? We saw your parents on a date more recently, but have yet to see your grandmother come through."

"Everyone has been busy working, Miss Arceneau more in the Core. Setting up some type of banking infrastructure if I remember correctly. My parents have been working as well, Corporate Sector but I am sure they will make their way down here sometime soon. Maybe when they come to see me on the last day of my internship." She paused slightly. "How about your family Astol?"

"Just fine Miss Dashiell. My son is nearly eight months old now. Eating us out of house and home."

Persephone chuckled.

"They say boys do that. Its been too long since we've crossed paths then."

"Been working the weekend shifts." Astol cleared his throat, realizing he should also take orders given Miss Dashiell was with a guest. "Can I get your usual starter of grilled balsamic seasonal stonefruit and nerf-milk burratta?"

"You know me too well."

Astol turned to Tavian Djo .

"For the Pal'da?"

 

[Tavian Djo]

A second ticked by.

The boy stared at the menu, lips shut, expression gone neutral. The apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Thinking, wheels spinning.

Persephone’s exchange with the waiter fragmented his understanding of her and her interests and her place in the dreamscape of his mind. What coalesced in its place felt like one of those hard truths that left him feeling very foolish and, perhaps, out of his depths.

“The scallops, thank you,” he said, melodic Hapan accent hiding the undercurrent of confusion in his voice.

Tavian waited until Astol departed before speaking again.

“Arceneau…”

As in the name of the tower they sat in now. Arceneau Trading Company. The largest corporation in the entire galaxy, wealthier than entire governments and star systems.

The sudden shift in power balance did not bother the Hapan. His entire life he’d been around a society run by women. That Persephone Dashiell happened to be a scion of the galaxy’s most powerful tycoon made sense to him.

Tavian nodded to himself, “Well. Thank you for buying dinner. Think I’ll do the gamebird risotto for the main course. Looks good. Reminds me of the forest outside the palace.”

He pretended to keep his eyes buried in the menu for a moment, then glanced up at her. The previous attempts at conversation had been met with the most terse of remarks. Maybe if he gave her room to breathe…

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Anytime."

Not really 'anytime' as she didn't anticipate there being a second time, but what other sentiment would there be? Persephone wasn't one to pull the 'Arceneau' card often, if ever. Technically she was a Dashiell and the Arceneau portion of the family was just her adoptive mother and sister, along with Danger herself. Dashiell was nothing to sneeze at, but on a much lower level. Maybe if she was trying to buy salvage.

"You really can't go wrong here. Mushroom ravioli with a brown butter sauce is my go-to and will be tonight. Refined rustic, I believe it what the chef is going for. Something different in the heart of urban sprawl."

Cordial, but she wasn't going to offer up any information. A casual tense meal was easy enough to stomach for her, and since she was paying there would be no pressure or whining on his end in some odd power imbalance.

 

[Tavian Djo]

Tavian pursed his lips.

Poor communication skills. Right.

A dozen thoughts rippled through his mind at once. He was positive that faced with this sort of teeth-pulling conversation any of his friends would have told Persephone to have a nice night and left, message received.

She did not want to be here.

But… that wasn’t exactly true. Persephone seemed to Tavian like the type of girl who would not be somewhere she did not want to be.

So why were her walls so high? Had he ruined his own mystery by revealing too much? Was he just better as the mysterious Hapan boy in the ruins? Or perhaps when she thought she would never see him again she felt it easier to talk to him.

He could understand that.

Tavian determinedly trudged ahead in the conversation.

“That does sound excellent. You’ve been here a time or two, I take it,” he smiled weakly, “Are you close with your family?”

She had said she was adopted.

Persephone Dashiell

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Tavian Djo
​

"You don't really get a choice not to be close with the type of family I have, so yes. A little breathing room since I go to university so far away but still very involved on all levels."

In other words, if she went missing someone would look for her. Although she didn't expect that now. It seemed the dear Pal'da had realized, in some small way, she was on just as much equal footing as himself. Personally she was still certain he had built some idealized version of herself back in those ruins he was clinging to, but maybe the night would say otherwise.

"What about yourself? Thirteenth in line sounds as if you have many first cousins....if I am remembering my succession rules correctly. Although it seems everyone does it slightly different and being a matriarchal society..."

 

[Tavian Djo]

“Succession is likely not the best word I could have used, maybe I was trying to impress you,” he admitted, frowning and looking out the window at the skyline. “No man can ever inherit the fountain throne. It passes to the first female in line.”

His fingers pinched at the stem of a fork on the table in a nervous tic.

“But I do have many cousins.”

Many, many cousins.

“On Hapes men are viewed as… breeding stock. If my friend Darien married one of my cousins he couldn’t ever inherit the throne. But his daughter might. And that would be appealing to his house. It’s complicated.”

He tapped at the fork, grimacing at the thought of being used as a bargaining piece in the houses.

“I’m glad you are close with yours. That sounds nice,” a note of wist in his voice, “Family is important.”

Persephone Dashiell