What the actual fuck?  Rufio appeared in Novus on a day when the autumn sun was hot and high in the sky.  Blinking, he opens his eyes, finding himself somewhere entirely different than where he’d started.  Where he expected to see the lush jungles of Neverland, to hear the whispering chorus of the sea, there was only desert. Far as his eyes could see, the dunes stretched high to the heavens… and Rufio knew that the magic had screwed him again.

Dusting himself off, the stallion sighed an audible sigh, stamping about in the soft sand.  His chains glowed hot from the sunlight, jingling with every step.  From the look of him, it was clear to the average passerby that Rufio was a punk.  His fur is dark, except for where it blends to zebra-like stripes on his legs.  Atop his head is a red and black mohawk mane, adorned with golden baubles and chains.  His lips twist into a sneer as cold silver eyes peer over the landscape.  Desert.  Just great.

Neverland was a veritable sort of paradise – so unlike the harshness of Mors.  Instantly, he began to miss the lushness of his home.  He missed the brine of the sea air, the cry of the gulls, the wash of the waves.  Though some might find beauty in the golden dunes, there was little more than disdain given to the land by Rufio.  All he wanted was to go back home.

How he’d gotten here was something of a mystery too.  He’d been fine, alone and minding his own business, when the magic had sucked him up into a vortex.  Something deep within him worries that perhaps Neverland was gone entirely now.  Already, it had been abandoned by the rest of the orphan lost boys.  Even Pan, who had told them over and over that Neverland was his one true home, had gone again.  For a time, Rufio had thought the green boy would return to them.  For a time, he’d almost forgiven Pan for the first time he’d left.  Showing his true colors though, he’d vanished once more.  It was hard to trust a child with wanderlust in his veins… for even though Pan had a home in Neverland, he was never satisfied with staying in one place.

Rufio on the other hand… Rufio never wanted to leave.  Though he doesn’t wear the same mantle of youth as his once-friend Pan, he had never lost his child-like attitude and angst.  There is a callousness with which he views the world, disdainful of “adults” who put themselves into petty squabbles and drama.  In truthfulness, the black and red stallion wanted to stay out of such politics.  He wanted to just be left alone.

And now, that’s what he was… alone in a new and forlorn place.  Accepting this fate, he gathers his wits about him, and starts walking.  After all, if Rufio couldn’t change his circumstances, he’d be better off getting out of the heat than sweltering to death with no one to hear his cries.