Rufio,
Rufio hated the summers in the desert. He longed for easier days in Neverland, where the worst he had to endure was keeping the lost boys in line. Now, his ‘home’ (if you could call Solterra such a place) was a literal hell-scape. Gone were the swaying palm trees and the sea breezes which could calm even his own fiery temper. In their place, there is only sand and rock, as far as the eye could see. Some loved the desert, but Rufio did not see its beauty. He longed for the sea, but would never admit to it, setting his teeth in a scowl and forcing his spine stiff with grit and determination.
But hell, he was human.
He didn’t want to be in the desert today, not when the sky was bright and hot, and shade was nowhere to be seen. Even the beetles were hiding underground now, so he decided it was time to leave. Far from Solterra he wandered, northward toward the common lands. While he couldn’t say what drew him there, he felt a nagging pull to come here, traversing without stopping as if he were truly on a mission. With urgency, he makes his way to the field – a place he’d never been, though it felt a familiar place.
Strange. Magic was always strange.
Rufio didn’t trust magic, not really. Though he’d seen its power with his own eyes, he couldn’t be sure that those who bore it had good intentions. In his own experience, those with power let it go to their head. So, he would never be one to pursue such things. Rufio didn’t have the ambition to lead or to rally others, instead focusing on simpler tasks – lounging in the sun, brawling, and tinkering with metals.
He clanged as he walked, heavy gold chains ringing against each other as they rested against his dark frame. While it should make him warmer, there is a pleasant breeze in the field which provides welcome relief, and he breathes the air in deeply. Rufio? A voice rings in his mind, puzzling though familiar. He knows better than to look for it, for this was magic, pure and simple. Asha? He whispers back to the voice, the question uncharacteristically gentle as he wonders if his memories were playing tricks on him or if his companion had actually found her way here.
For too long, he’d simply believed that she had perished when magic had ruined Neverland. He’d mourned in his own way, laying a stone for her on the highest peak he’d found, musing that she would have liked the simplicity of his offering. But now, she seems to be here – the scent of her wafting across the field as his pace quickens and his voice rings aloud to her. "Asha? I’m here…”
And as the tall grasses part, she finds him – yipping quietly as she falls into place beside him, rubbing her scent over him once more. He reaches to touch her, burying his face into the soft fur at her nape, a whisper in her mind betraying emotion that only she could hear. I’ve missed you… I thought you were… well – nevermind that… come… let’s go home.
mischief managed.
| "speaks" | @Random Events
