54 | Mural

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Brush strokes of smeared, dull paint depicted an imminent scene of harsh violence that seemed prepared to leap off from the canvas itself. Mandalorian crusaders were frozen in time, preparing to cross a dark void in pursuit of their foe who wielded glowing silver sabers. Eruptions of fire and smoke from the work of art could almost be heard echoing around the royal hall.

It was a painted image of the Mandalorian war against the Jedi from long, long ago. Those with the silver sabers dawned hooded cloaks and dark eyes, being portrayed as the enemy while the light of the moon shined down proudly upon the Mandalorian warriors.

An image of dark versus light, Mandalorian's versus the Jedi, the heritage of a woman versus her identity.

Dakota stood below the painting at the center where the dark shadows of the mural met the brushes of light, her head was titled up to take in the entire piece. Her emerald eyes glazed over the sabers, and then the familiar helmets that covered her ancestors faces.

The palace was still, not a soul besides hers wandered the halls. All that could be heard was the faint hum of speeders that coasted along the cities highways outside. Duchess Satine had retired to her chambers for the night, offering her younger sister a space to sleep which she accepted gratefully, however after several hours of attempting, Dakota surrendered to insomnia and left to roam the grand halls of her old home instead.

She broke away from the mural of her people's past war and lightly floated through the decorative columns, careful not to utter a sound as if too afraid to disturb the peace. Although this place was the source of her suffocating past, today it provided her with a sense of contentment. The reasoning for that positive change is undoubtedly due to her sister.

After a few minutes, she found herself standing at the throne of the Duchess in the royal foyer. The golden throne sat in the darkness, barely illuminated by the light of the night city that laid beyond the palace walls. Dakota stood at the foot of the stair, tilting her head to the side as she eyed the seat. It didn't look right without her sister inhabiting the space, it seemed desolate. Whenever she envisioned Satine, she was always sitting boldly on her throne.

Satine Kryze was the sun that fueled the hearts of the Mandalorian's. Her influence sparked inspiration and devotion to peace. The seat represented her fair and just rule. A kind and gentle Duchess.

Dakota smiled softly to herself, dropping her gaze to the floor for a moment. How could two sisters be so drastically different? A true peace keeper and a pretender. How long would she have to convince herself that she was doing the right thing?

Satine is everything that she wished she could be. A servant to what is right.

Was her time at the Jedi Temple a lie? Or a harsh truth? It had brought her to the people that she couldn't live without, to a passion that exceeded above all else. The helping and saving of the innocent in need, the liberation of captives, and the rescuing of those who cry out for help. There was nothing else greater than that.

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