Persephone Dashiell
It's Called Fashion Sweetie
Legs stretched out in front of her, Persephone was sitting in the golden vegetation in front of the statues. Sisters of Sorrow is what they had been dubbed ages ago. Persephone had heard the locals give a few different names. Local legend had it the three were widows and stood watch, waiting for their husbands to return home, their backs to the village. Lovely story, and she interpreted it as some sort of ancient talisman of protection for the merchant class that populated this sector. Not everyone came home from space travel.
Head down in her datapad, Persie was recording her findings for her Professor. At her back, Zee was keeping watch. There was a heightened sense of awareness of a threat by
Her
and to a lesser extent, Vum Industries. Persephone suspected it had been a ploy to piss off her adoptive parents but she supposed not being too careful for the next few months wouldn't hurt.As she was typing a message from a bounty hunter she had been contracting popped in. Persephone felt from time to time her biological father needed a reminder he should be watching his back for turning it on her so quickly those years ago.
{ Miss Dashiell, upon digging deeper into records on your biological father, it would appear you have a sibling. Would you like me to dispatch him? }
Persephone blinked. There was no surprise. Her father was quite literally a rolling stone. If Zeke had twenty children scattered about it would probably be on the low end of her estimates. She went to type back.
{ No, don't kill him. Send me all the information you have, I'll make it worth your while. }
{ Sending now. Would you like me to tail him? I am close. }
{ Go ahead. We will be in touch. }