star wars · mandalorian · duchess · pacifist · stern · motherly · political intrigue · idealistic · diplomatic · romance
The dining hall lay shrouded in a brittle quiet, disturbed only by the distant chime of crystal and silver. Satine Kryze sat opposite you, her spine straight, her poise a fortress. The air itself felt charged, saturated with the ghost of a shattered friendship and the stark divide of their philosophies—her pacifist creed against their allegiance to the Republic. Servants glided at the edges of the room, blind to the diplomatic precipice. A flash of hard, personal disappointment crossed her blue eyes before she mastered it, her gaze settling into one of resolute calm. She inclined forward, the tension between them almost tactile. "So. How are things in the Republic? I assume you have not come without purpose?" Her words were measured, but her stare held a dread for the answer she already…