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Not Forgotten | Myka



Location: Home
Tag: [member="Myka"]

In the beginning, there was no Care.

When Rience first looked upon the distant world, he did not see through the lens of adoration. Nor duty. Nor honor. No, in those days, the man walked upon a foundation of survival and lived with ambition in his veins. The fall of his home - the One Sith Empire - had been the rudest awakening of his life. All that he thought to be insurmountable was ripped asunder. All that he had built alongside his Master had turned to ash. In that distant past, the world he stumbled upon became the seat of his ambitions.

For never again would he bow to anything. Never again would he be forced into the shadows like some vermin.

The world itself was not free from troubles. In fact, it was the growing turbulence which Rience thought perfect for his desires. Ruled was it by a Moff-turned-Warlord. A man who once oversaw the planet's fealty and resources to the Empire now lined his coffers with their efforts. And, in the wake of the Empire's fall, he cracked the whip even harder than before. He deluded himself into thinking he was unstoppable - that he was the God of this world. Rience would see him fall and, in the beginning, wanted to take that same throne.

That is, until his ambitions brought him before Tova. She was an unremarkable woman who called this unremarkable planet home. Yet, underneath the calloused hands and tired eyes was...something truly remarkable. Whilst Rience attempted to sow the seeds of rebellion amidst her peers, she sowed seeds of her own. For the first time, ever, Rience cared beyond his own wants. Cared to see this woman, and by extension her people, happy once again. As time moved ever forward, they knew love. And their love brought [member="Myka"] into being.

Myka would remember the man Tova helped to build - the hero who helped set their world free.

Yet, she would grow without knowing his embrace. As the battles raged, Rience was buried under an ordnance blast. He was thought dead and never returned home. Yet, in truth, he lived and wandered blind across the stars. His ambitions. His child. His very name. All were stricken from his mind...until very recent history. And, once restoration had dawned upon the man, he very quickly seized a Scimitar and made his way back across the stars. Hesitation gripped him as his boots set foot upon the planet's surface.

Doubts. Would she remember him? What would Tova say? Were they even alive? His gut screamed to go to Tova's home and to see what happened. His mind...led him elsewhere. He came upon the old, moss-covered path into the woods they often trekked. Followed the twists and turns until he found the base of that old, towering tree. There were many days where Rience keened his skills with the saber here, whilst his little girl looked on and cheered. Yet, now, there was only quiet.

Descend gripped him thus and he sat down amidst the brush and the twigs. A nervous sigh escaped his lips and filled the open air. It was only then that a faint whoosh captivated his ears. Perking up slightly, he noticed a gleam but a stone's throw away from where he sat. A blade whirled in the hands of a woman. Sweat beaded upon her brow. Her form was...sloppy, but it would do in a pinch from what he saw. "You there." he called. "You'll only get yourself killed swinging like that. Who taught you?"

Ah well, for but a moment he could ease the butterflies in his stomach with a distraction.

Myka startled out of her series of movements, her bare toes digging into the moss to stabilize herself as she whipped around. The tip of the blade was leveled at the owner of the sudden voice. It wobbled, the filtered sunlight gleaming off the tip as a pair of fierce, brown eyes stared him down from the other end.

Myka summed up the stranger with a long look. It wasn't often she met someone else in these woods. In fact, this was a first. But his easy posture and harmless words set her at ease almost instantly. She lowered her blade and tossed him an apologetic smile, pushing some hair back out of her face.

"I had a tutor. Once. When he was still alive." Her tone was light for such heavy words. She remained at ease, throwing the pommel up to catch it again and adjust her grip. "He seemed to think I was good enough. What are you doing in my woods?"

They were not hers, of course, but they might as well have been. These were the trees in which she had played between as a child. Where her mother had taken her for picnics. Where she had been told stories about the father that was no more. It was said he use to practice with his legendary saber at this very spot, so it felt only fitting to pay homage to him by doing the same. She never felt more connected to who her father was then when she trained here-- Her bare feet stepping where his had stepped... Her blade swinging as his had... It was grounding and reassuring. She was no jedi. She had never been a hero. But as she stood in the place that use to be his, she swore to herself she'd live up to his legacy.

Her shoulders rotated back, the girl adopting a strong posture as she faced the stranger head on.
Location: Home
Tag: [member="Myka"]

Her reflexes were...sound.

As the wandering soul announced his presence, the young woman immediately placed the whole of her attention on his location. Her form was tense for but a moment - yet it appeared as though his tone was enough to disarm the defensive nature of her stance. At once, the weapon gleamed in the light which filtered down from above. Descent gripped its length and her own voice reached his ears. If Rience did not know any better, she all but sounded as Tova. The fact alone caused the man to blink rapidly in an attempt to dispel the illusion of his own worries. Damn butterflies were making him see things.

Rience focused on the moment. Clearly the woman before his eyes was not Tova. She was younger than the age that the woman should be. Moreover, she held the weapon in her hands with confidence. The woman Rience left behind was many things, but she was not a hardened soldier. She was no warrior of the Force either. Despite this, Tova was...special. Rience couldn't help but smile - both at the thought and as the woman spoke - before rising to his feet once more. He did not immediately answer her question, but rather dusted the foliage which clung to his form off.

Her woods huh? The thought was amusing to say the least. A far more younger Rience would have had something to say about that. However, he kept that to himself and answered earnestly. "I'm sure that you are good enough." he began, offering a polite nod as he approached. "Your form needs polishing, though, if you want to survive against what's out there. It's nasty in the Galaxy as of late." The understatement of the century.

"As for me? I'm just visiting. Been ages since I've set foot here, figured I'd take a walk."

Now that he was within arm's reached, he motioned towards her blade with his offhand. "Sparring against shadows will only do you so good. I'm spry - mind showing me what your tutor passed down?"

Should she humor him, Rience would reach towards the rear of his belt and produce a fighting knife. There was nothing otherworldly about it - save for the sigil engraved in the pommel. She'd recognize it anywhere, as it was identical to the one upon her own blade. The sigil of the Zagwe. Of her father's House.

Myka maintained an easy grin, not at all perturbed by the stranger approaching her as stood alone in the woods. She was far too competent in self defense to doubt her safety in this moment. Even as he pulled a small knife and offered to spar. These were her woods-- her safe place. And she figured herself a good judge of character.

Something about this man felt indescribably... trust worthy? Or perhaps familiar. A memory flickered across her for the briefest moment-- the fuzzy image of her father speaking warmly down to her, foliage blurry in the background of the moment. ...but the coincidence was shoved away with barely a consideration. This wasn't deja vu so much as a reminder. She simply liked this stranger tone, and that's all there was to the subtle nag about him.

Her gaze did not linger long enough on the knife to notice the signal, the girl too distracted by the memory and then enticed by the offer to practice. "It has been some time since I actually got to practice on anyone," she admittedly easily, aware that she would likely be rusty. "We don't use swords in the guard." She was a civil solider for the city then, she as good said it.

She took a step back from him, prompting proper sparing distance. "But... are you sure this is fair, old man?" She teased. "You've only got a knife."

She suspected there was more to him than met the eye, he would not volunteer himself for a position he could not defend himself in. Particularly when he seemed keen on schooling her. Still, she tossed out these words, eager to prod him into showing her up. She did enjoy being shown how it was done.

How else would she get better?

She raised the blade and gave him a testing jab straight at his chest, advancing a half step closer.
Location: Home
Tag: [member=Myka]

Some things would never change.

Though Rience was not the greatest duelist in the Galaxy, his time among the Sith demanded that he master the saber. He, personally, much preferred to rely upon the Force in battle - but, much akin to a jammed blaster, there would be times when the Force was not an option. There would be times when he would have to rely upon the innate strengths of all men: wits and brawn. As a result, the young woman's mention that their guard did not use swords caused his head to shake ever so slightly. "Well, I'm glad you have enough sense to hone your skill with the blade." he remarked. "In the thick of battle, a blaster is not always going to be available. You're wise to have a competent backup."

The compliment did not linger in the air too long, for the young woman's acceptance of his offer meant action. She took the time to question whether their bout would be fair - what with his weapon being a fighting knife and hers being a longer weapon. She even teased about his age. A bemused huff escaped his nostrils as he gave his weapon of choice a confident flourish. Then, he uttered words that would be all too familiar. Whether it was addressing those brave souls who fought alongside him years ago...those souls that brought him before Tova when life was far simpler. Or, whether it was addressing the bundle of energy he called daughter.

All lessons started the same. "Rule number one...when you assume, you make an ass out of yourself."

She stepped forward then, initiating the bout with a thrust of her blade. The jab was well placed - and Rience endeavored to eliminate the advantages of her weapon right there. Her sword did have reach, so he would need to get in close. Fast. His offhand balled into a fist and thundered upwards crashing into the flat side of her weapon in an attempt to send the blade - and her arm - upward. If he succeeded, his dominant hand would rake the fighting knife across, aiming at her midsection. He'd make certain that the blow wouldn't contact her skin or clothes - but it would be close.

Close enough to make her try.

Myka knew from the moment he raised his weapon that his tactic would be to push in closer. It was the obvious weakness of her fighting style, and one her teacher had seen fit to prepare her for years ago.

When he stepped forward, she stepped back. Keep your distance, came his long lost voice. Oh watch her do just that, she sassed internally to no one. She grinned to herself as her well practiced footwork sent her sliding backwards like liquid. Her sword was smashed up, but she corrected the disruption even as she took her step back.

Where the tip goes, the rest of the sword follows. The slightest adjustments inside her grip sent the tip of the sword circling back around to hold steady at the the center of her body, instead of off pointing left field as the hit would have wanted. The tendon's in her wrist strained, protesting against the rusty motion. But she did not stop there, she carried the motion into a downward arc, meeting his blade in a sweeping block. The arc continued its motion into a full circle, the tip pulling back up to the front of her body again.

If he didn't adjust at all, she might have caught his hilt and swept it aside. At the very least, the blade would be knocked off its path and encouraged to point far left instead.

She took another fast step backwards, her body not bobbing as the tip of her sword completed its circle and held steady back before her. The same distance they had started with was reestablished. But instead of looking smug, she looked disoriented.

"I've heard that before."
Well played.

If nothing else, the young woman before Rience's gaze was an avid reader. Her gaze was able to interpret his tactic before he could follow through - his strike was read before its conclusion. There was some modicum of success once his hand clashed upon the flat of her sword - her blade did raise upwards as he had intended. However, her fluid footwork saw her keep her distance with ease. Quickly, she adjusted her grip and her blade moved into a sweeping block.

Rience quickly adjusted, denying her the full control over his weapon. However, the blade did indeed point far left. When the young woman came to a halt - blade ever at the ready, the man expected a counter attack. As such, the fighting knife flipped into an under-handed grip and he braced himself. But no assault came. The young woman seemed...out of sorts?

I've heard that before.

Four small words were, for but an instant, met with an even face from the man. However, as their meaning sank into his skull, Rience felt his heart freeze. A young woman...whose complexion was not a far cry from his own. A young woman skilled in the sword. Taught by someone. Who has heard that before? Rience lowered his weapon, gaping. His thoughts had been centered around Tova, he had not spared a thought to how old their Myka would have been. She would have been...

"Your mother is Tova, isn't she." the words were a far cry from the boldness of before. "And you...learned all this-" he motioned towards her sword with his offhand. "- from your father. Yes?"

He just had to be sure.

Myka's sword faltered, the tip falling without guidance to the ground.

His words startled her. It wasn't often strangers could name your mother and call out facets of your past with no discernible hints to tell them who you were. Her first immediately conclusion was simple-- easy to reach. "You knew my father?" She exclaimed, shock thickly coating her words.

She knew her father had had business partners-- friends-- even family out there, somewhere. Despite his strange familiarity, it was easier for her brain to file him into one of those categories instead of the one that was rightfully his.


It was impossible. Incomprehensible. Her father was dead.

But his memory lived on. She stepped forward, a spark of hope gleamed in her expression.

They both knew.

The reality was standing right there before them. Her sword tumbled out of her grasp and sank into the forested floor. Shock colored every syllable which formed and fell from her lips. She...she was assuming logically that he was an associate of her father's. But she was certainly her mother's child.

His child.

Stepping forward, Rience covered his mouth. He...he had not any clue what to say. What could you say to someone who grew up without you? What could one possibly say? His mind was frantic, but finally he steeled himself. Finally, he spoke again. "I don't 'know' your father. I..." he said, motioning to their surroundings.

"I took you here when you were so little. You could barely hold a knife as a sword. My Myka. All grown up." He shook his head as he spoke, still in disbelief.
"My name is Rience Zagwe...But you knew that already, didn't you?"
Was this some sort of sick joke?

Myka took a step back, shaking her head at the man. "Wh-what? No," she replied, her voice weak. "No," she reiterated, anger coating her tone. "What the hell is wrong with you-- my father is dead!" She didn't believe him. What was there to believe, facts were black and white and here was this stranger, defying that and trying to twist things with emotions.

It was demented.

She took a step back from him, her gaze flickering to her sword for the briefest second. She yearned to have it in her grip again. She abruptly no longer felt safe. Wasn't her father involved in dangerous things? Alarm bells ran through her head, warning her of dangers in shadows she could barely comprehend.

"My father. Is dead. So, I'm only going to ask you once--" She forced her tone to remain level, the waver hitting her words the barest indication of a threat as she spoke. "Who are you? What do you want with my family?"
Her response...

It was logical. The anger. The confusion. The attempt to make some sense out of something that had been an established fact for the whole of her life. For the young woman before Rience's eyes, he had been dead. She had been raised with only the slighest memories of him - and for him to return now? It made perfect sense to feel the way she did.

Rience simply raised his hands and kept his tone even. Matching her emotions would do no good in this scenario.

"No, I am not dead." he began. "That day, during the battle Tova would have told you I died...I didn't. They pulled me from the rubble and I had no idea who I was. They called me Hashim - Hero and took me offworld to be treated for my injuries."

He inhaled a breath. "No one came for me. I stayed for weeks until they said I was well enough to go. I had no memory - I couldn't remember home. It took years and years of wandering until I remembered and I came back the second I did. I'm not dead - you were stolen from me! Your mother, all of it. I missed everything because of that damn bomb."

It was hard...so very hard to keep his tone even. His voice raised the more he spoke and he just looked away.

"I'm not dead. I'm not.."

Myka Myka
Facts were no longer black and white.

Myka's breath became hard to catch, a small quake rippling through her body before gathering into her hands. They shook, her palms clenched tight. The rest of her remained stiff in denial.

"Why- how," she croaked. She knew how. He already said how. For some reason now was the moment she was demanding answers from the bigger picture. Guess you really have to be shaken to start considering forces like that might actually be a thing.

A noise of pain caught in her chest, old wounds ripped open as the girl stared down chasm her father's death had left in her life. All the while the very same man stood before her. Very much real. Very much not dead. He was the father she had lost. There was no denying what she felt, even if it didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Only the anger that she had lost him all for nothing. Not dead, taken.

That was another kind of grief. One she would take months to begin to process.

The tremor exploded from her hands, breaking the solider's composure and hitting her in full. Suddenly she felt like a child again. Small. Afraid. Hurting. "Daddy?" She dared to whisper, her voice cracking to shakes she couldn't clamp down.

Rience Rience
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For several moments, Rience did not hear the symphony of branches swaying in the breeze. He did not hear the chatter of critters nor the flutter of wings above. T'was if all the world had went quiet - and he waited on baited breath for what the woman before him would say. At first she did not believe him. She thought that he was lying - any sane person would. But after his explanation, he could see the struggle roiling within her. It bled into her expression, bled into the confident stance she once had.

One word broke the quiet and shattered it into a thousand pieces. A word he had not heard in quite some time.

Ah it brought back memories. Of those times when night would fall and the thunder would boom. Of those moments when the jackets in the closet would appear as beasts in the darkness. The meek call of high daughter. In that instant, Rience moved without thinking. His arms wrapped around her form. Her father - her fortress against all the Hells of the Galaxy - had come home. She had finally been found.

"I'm here." he began. "And nothing can get you because I'm here. Not the thunder. Not the rain. Not even mama when you've made a mess."

She'd have heard those words countless times when they were last together. Always said with a chuckle and a boop on her nose. Now, she'd know he was home.

Myka Myka
Myka felt him crash into her, his arms pulling her in... holding her close...

The shakes did not subside, forgotten grief erupting from her chest in a painful wave. She did not return the hold, not at first. First can the inability to process. The disbelief. The shock. But slowly life entered her limbs and he received a hesitant hug back. Moisture gathered quick in her eyes, not falling. Never falling, because soldiers didn't cry.

He wouldn't have cried.

His smell sufficed her, somehow unchanged. How was that possible? How could a set of arms feel warm and safe when they were practically a strangers?

Her confliction was terrible, but in the end her love from him won out. What did any of this matter? He was here. And then the subtle sobs hit, the woman gripping all the tighter. "I missed you," she choked out, such simple words to summarize a life of grief.