Private Caf and Creed

[Rynar Solde]

[Location: The Verdant Cup – Pet-Friendly Café, Lower Promenade, Etti IV]

The sound of rain against duraglass had a rhythm to it — soft, deliberate, like the quiet breathing of the galaxy between storms. Rynar Solde sat near the window, helmet resting on the table beside an untouched cup of steaming caf. The faint hiss of the city outside was muffled by the hum of conversation and the low chime of crockery.


Cupcake lay curled at his feet, pale fur brushing against the edge of his boot, her tail flicking lazily whenever someone passed too close. The staff had long since stopped staring; the nexu had earned her place here through perfect manners and a quiet, watchful calm that mirrored her handler's.


Rynar turned a page on the worn datapad in his hands. The text was an archived oral account from a forgotten frontier war — soldiers' voices preserved in fragmented code, the kind of stories he collected like relics. His gloved thumb hovered over the pause key, lost in thought as he listened to a veteran's voice crackle through the tinny speaker.
"They said the skies burned red that day. But what I remember most… was the silence after."


A long breath left him. Maybe it was the warmth of the caf, or the soft scent of rain, but for once, the galaxy didn't feel so heavy.


He glanced down as Cupcake raised her head, meeting his gaze with that familiar slow blink — her "smile." Rynar gave a faint chuckle beneath his breath. "Yeah," he murmured quietly, voice just above a whisper. "It's a good story."


Outside, lightning rippled through the skyline — a reminder that even in peace, the storm was never far. But for this one moment, surrounded by the hum of life and the warmth of his companion, Rynar Solde allowed himself something rare.


He allowed himself to rest.

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

I slid the heavy metal door of the cafe aside, the bell above it giving a soft metalic, jingle that momentarily cut through the low murmur of the room. A blast of warm, coffee-scented air washed over me as I stepped inside.

My eyes scanned the room, quickly finding the figure I was looking for. Rynar was seated at a booth near the large front window, a spot strategically chosen to allow him a view of both the entrance and the street outside. He was leaning back, an open, worn notebook and a steaming mug resting on the small, checkered table before him.

I reached up, pulling the hood of my duster back from my head, letting the shadow fall away. The action drew his attention immediately. He met my gaze, a flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. I started my slow walk across the tiled floor, the long coat barely rustling as I approached.

Reaching the booth, I paused, nodding once—a simple, formal greeting.

"You must be Rynar," I stated, my voice low but clear over the cafe's background noise, leaving no room for doubt.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar looked up at the sound of the bell, setting his datapad down with quiet precision. The familiar voice of the café's background hum faded a little as he took in the woman approaching — purposeful stride, eyes sharp, but not hostile. Expected.

Cupcake stirred beneath the table, her nostrils flaring as she caught the stranger's scent. A soft rumble escaped her throat, low and instinctive.

Rynar extended a hand subtly, palm down. "Easy," he murmured. The nexu's tail gave a final flick before she settled again, head resting between her paws.

His visor turned back toward the newcomer as she stopped at the booth. A small, knowing nod followed.

"I am," he confirmed evenly, voice carrying that quiet, deliberate tone of his. "And you'd be Nianuke."

He gestured toward the empty seat across from him. "Sit, please. The rain's heavier than the forecasts promised — no sense standing through it."

A faint hint of warmth touched his words as he added, "Can I get you something? Tea, caf — they brew both decently here. My treat."

Cupcake's golden eyes followed Nianuke's movement, her tail curling around Rynar's boot again.


He leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the seat as he studied her through the soft light spilling from the window. "Glad you made it through. Haven't had good company in some time."

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

"I'm fine. I had something to drink on the way here," I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. I didn't want to make a big deal of declining the hospitality. "It's because of the creed.. with me removing my helmet in public... ya know... but thank you for the offer."
I felt a familiar, sharp tug of awkwardness for having declined his offer of a drink—it was a small gesture of trust and welcome, and I had effectively blocked it.

To occupy my hands and mind, I reached around, carefully unslinging the Cycler rifle from my shoulder. The cool, weighty metal of the long firearm made a soft clunk as I rested it against the wall behind the booth, its stock angled up over the back of the seat. It wasn't meant as a threat, but as a standard precaution, a clear statement that I was always prepared.

I met his gaze again

"You can just call me Nia if it's better for you," I added, offering the name as a sort of replacement for the declined drink

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth tugging under the shadow of his helmet's edge — not quite a smile, but something close.

"I understand," he said quietly. "The Creed's a heavy thing to carry, even when it's done with conviction."

His gaze drifted briefly to the rain-slicked window, the faint reflection of his own unhelmeted face glinting back. "My father followed it the same way. Never took his helmet off before others. Said the face didn't matter — only the honor behind it."

Cupcake shifted at his feet, tail brushing the floor. Rynar reached down absently, fingertips tracing along the nexu's fur as if grounding himself.

He looked back to her then, voice steady but touched with curiosity. "Still, I've been wondering something, Nia." A pause. "Of all the souls in this sector — why seek out someone like me? I'm not exactly known for my conversation."

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his tone softening enough to show it wasn't an accusation — just genuine interest. "Korda's better at this sort of thing. Charismatic. Loud. People tend to find him first."

The faint hum of the café filled the pause that followed, punctuated by Cupcake's slow, rhythmic breathing.


"So why me?" he asked finally.

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

I gave a slight dip of my head in acknowledgement of the shared history.

"Your father sounds like a man of honor," I replied simply.

I leaned back, my hand unconsciously resting near the edge of the seat. The low hum of the café seemed to grow louder as I considered his question about Korda.

"Korda is loud, Rynar. You said it yourself," I stated, my voice still a little awkwardness.
"But you...your quiet like a ghost a shadow....why is that?"

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar's gaze shifted toward Nia, the soft light of the café highlighting the sharp lines of his face. His helmet rested on the table beside his datapad, a silent marker of trust and of the quiet moment they shared.

A faint hum left his throat, thoughtful rather than habitual. "I wasn't always quiet," he said, voice low and steady. "There was a time when I spoke more than I should've. Thought I had things figured out."

His eyes followed the rain sliding down the window, tracing patterns like a story only he could read. "Then the galaxy reminded me how small I really was."

He reached down to Cupcake, fingers brushing her fur, and the nexu lifted her head, golden eyes glinting in the light. "Got stranded on Cholganna during an archival run. Ship went down. No beacon, no signal. Just me, the wreck, and a forest that didn't care if I survived."

He paused, letting the memory settle. "The first thing I saw was her mother. A nexu — full-grown, furious. I lived because she didn't. Found the cub after. Couldn't leave her. Used her mother's pelt to stay warm while I kept the cub alive."

Cupcake blinked slowly, tilting her head as if acknowledging the story, before resting again at his feet.

"Months passed before a patrol found us," Rynar continued, his tone calm but edged with a quiet gravity. "By then, I'd learned the value of silence. The forest taught me that noise draws teeth — and that sometimes, the quiet can be kinder."

He leaned back slightly, fingers still resting on Cupcake, eyes returning to Nia's. "Since then, I've preferred to listen first. Let the world speak before I answer."

A faint smirk curved his lips. "Makes me poor company for the loud ones, but… the quiet has its own kind of truth."

He tilted his head toward her, gaze steady. "And what about you, Nia? What draws someone who follows the Creed to chase ghosts and shadows?"

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

"I wasn't raised with the noise of life like other I lived in quiet...I....I.," , a faint voice comes from her "I was raised with the sound of a mag-lock clicking shut, the hiss of air being filtered, the echo of my own breath. When I was a Foundling, my mentor used to run drills where I had to spend an entire day in the lower levels of a city block without being seen or heard by the street gangs, the maintenance crews, or the other initiates. If I failed, I went hungry."

She paused, looking directly at the scrapped pink pieces of her modified armor. The worn metal felt like a second skin, a constant reminder of her exile.

"You said noise draws teeth. My clan understood that in there own way. When the Purge came, the clans that stood and fought were shattered. The few that survived were the ones that disappeared. They became ghosts.....ghosts that hold the past, and Shadows that leave no trail."

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar's gaze softened, the soft café light catching the planes of his face. Helmet set aside, unmasked, his expression was calm but attentive, acknowledging the weight of her words.

"I see," he said quietly, voice measured. "I can't claim to know exactly what it's like… but I understand the shape solitude and survival leave on someone. I've walked through shadows of my own, on worlds that didn't care if I lived or died."

His hand brushed lightly along Cupcake's back, feeling the nexu shift beneath his touch — a silent gesture of grounding. "It doesn't make it right. It doesn't undo what was lost. But… you don't have to walk through it alone forever."

He leaned forward slightly, not imposing, letting the words come gently. "If you want, there's a chance to step out of the shadows. Not forced, not demanded — simply offered. To walk alongside someone who might see you… not as a ghost, not as a shadow, but as you are."

Rynar's eyes met hers steadily, calm and sincere. "I can't promise it's easy, or that the past disappears. But perhaps… together, there's a quiet place where you don't have to chase ghosts. A place where being seen isn't something you have to earn."

Cupcake rested her head at his feet, tail curling gently around his boot, reflecting the quiet trust extended between them.

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

She stared at the reflection of her in the window, watching the rain blur the lights outside, and felt a dangerous, unfamiliar pressure behind her eyes. It was a moment of profound, painful truth she couldn't outrun or slice her way past.

"It's not about earning it, Rynar," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper, strained and raw, utterly unlike the controlled tone of her old clan operatives.

"You survived because the forest taught you to be quiet. I have to be quiet because the galaxy is still hunting us and what ever is left of the empire. I can't be found, not truly, because if I am, the hunter might lead the hounds right to the last, desperate hiding place of my people." I look outside to the rain

"I appreciate the offer, Rynar. Truly. But a ghost can't anchor to anything. Not yet. I have to stay a shadow until I know there are no more lights to extinguish."

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar didn't speak at first. He watched her reflection in the glass — rain streaking down the window, bending the neon lights into rippling lines of color that blurred her outline. It felt symbolic in its own way — two warriors sitting in a world that had already moved on from theirs, fading ghosts pretending to live among the living.

He took a slow breath before answering, the faint rasp of his voice softened by the quiet hum of the café.
"I understand," he said simply, but the words carried more weight than they seemed. "The galaxy doesn't forgive the ones who learn how to vanish. It just forgets them."

He leaned back slightly, his hand brushing the rim of his helmet on the table — a habit born of instinct.
"I've spent years moving through places where the Empire's shadow still lingers — listening more than speaking, watching more than acting. It teaches you patience. It teaches you silence. But it also teaches you what loneliness sounds like when the world stops calling your name."

His gaze shifted from the window to her, calm but steady. "You're right to stay hidden, for now. I won't tell you otherwise. But being unseen doesn't mean being alone."

He lifted his cup, the faint steam rising between them. "If you ever need Intel — data routes, supply lines, movements — I have eyes in places most people avoid. I've made it a point to keep track of the ones who still fly Imperial colors. You wouldn't have to reveal yourself. I'd simply feed you what you need to strike where it hurts."

He let the offer linger, not as pity but as recognition. "I don't want to drag you into the light, Nia. I'm just saying… when the day comes that the shadows start to close in, you won't have to face them alone."

Rynar's tone softened one last time, a quiet sincerity threading through his words. "The galaxy may not see you. But I do."

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

"You understand the price of vanishing," she finally conceded, her voice low and carefully devoid of inflection.

"That's rare for some."

She lifted her hand, the mismatched durasteel plates of her vambrace catching the dim light. It wasn't the uniform of a true mandolorian; it was the scraps of a survivor.

"When you're part of my clan, you don't worry about the Empire's shadow," she continued, her focus turning inward.

"You worry about the whisper. The one person who survived the purge, who saw you move, who recognized the pattern of your retreat. The one piece of unreliable data that could still expose the whole network...."

"You're right about one thing, Rynar," she concluded, her voice regaining the hard, disciplined edge of a Mandalorian operative. "The shadows close in..."

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar listened in silence, his eyes fixed not on her reflection, but on the rain beyond it. The sound of it tapping against the glass was steady — rhythmic — like the pulse of something alive in a world that had long stopped breathing.

"I do," he said finally, voice low, roughened slightly as if the words carried too much memory. "I understand the price. Vanishing isn't just hiding — it's learning to live without being seen, without being remembered. It's… surviving, not living."

He rested a hand on the table beside his helmet, tracing a faint scar etched across its blue enamel. "But I've never had a clan to vanish from. Not one that would've missed me, at least."

His gaze shifted back to her — calm, unflinching. "Clans… families… they're not just blood or creed. They're what you make of the people who stand beside you, even when they don't have to."


He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. "Take Korda, for example. Clan Veydran's gone — burned and buried by his own hand. He walks with a Cult of Destruction now, calls no banner but Domina Prime's. And yet, if someone he trusted called for him, he'd come. Without hesitation. Because that's the kind of clan he's made for himself — one built on loyalty, not lineage."

Rynar let that linger, then added quietly, "You don't have to be alone to stay unseen. The right people won't demand to be seen either — they'll walk with you in the dark, if only to keep the hounds from circling too close."

Cupcake gave a soft, rumbling huff beside him — not quite a growl, more like a low note of understanding — and Rynar reached down, absently running a hand through the creature's coarse fur. His next words came softer, meant only for Nia.

"Maybe one day, when the whispers fade and the hunt grows quiet… you'll remember that. That clan isn't something you're born to — it's something you build, one person at a time."


He offered a faint, genuine nod — not pressing the point, just anchoring it in quiet truth.

Nianuke cyt

 

[Nianuke cyt]

She took a shuddering, silent breath, forcing the emotion back down into the rigid discipline of her profession.

"The Clan I was born to gave me my armor and my life. The only way I honor them now is by keeping the universe from knowing they ever existed. I will accept the isolation," she concluded, her voice regaining its low, metallic firmness. "Because the alternative is too loud."
"Im scared Rynar...something Ive hid away for awhile..."