Rufio,
Rufio is drawn to the sea. It reminded him of home – and however much he hated the circumstances which had trapped him in Neverland, he missed it. He thought of the sandy shores, the crystal blue water, the tropical lushness of the jungle. It was a veritable paradise (albeit a lonely one), and he’d dreamed of easier days on the shores for some time now. So it is not unusual that the boy is on the shores, staring out to the ocean while his companion rested on a nearby pile of golden sand, gnawing on a crab she’d unearthed from the tidepools.
Waves crashed, and Rufio closed his eyes to imagine he was somewhere else. Somewhere further from this hellhole. He didn’t hold any affection for Solterra, but it was as good of a place as any to hang his hat. Once, he’d pledged to support the king’s cause. Raum… that was his name. But after his task was completed, Rufio had decided it wasn’t worth his time to return. War had come, and he’d wanted no part of it. So the metalworker had simply wandered around Novus, managing to stay out of the sight of others, keeping a low profile.
Sunlight beams down and cascades in prismatic light from his elaborate golden adornments. They chatter when the wind blows, creating a melodic tone which he found pleasing. There is another sound now though, one which suggests that his days of being alone were over. He turns, eyes flashing hot as they fall on her form, a sneer wrapping around his lips as he motions his companion to his side. Asha, come. The command is not spoken, but instead is a sort of telepathy he shares with the hyena alone, as she yips and makes her way to his side. Both of them stare at Lucinda for a moment, silence masked only by the quiet wash of water against sand.
"What are you staring at, Girl?” He huffs at the stranger, waiting for her to answer as his tail flicks impatiently against striped hocks. If he were intimidated by her jagged horns and haughty stare, Rufio didn’t show it. Instead, he simply juts his chin out further, stubbornness set as he regards her warily – not entirely disappointed at finding some company, but certainly not letting that show.
mischief managed.
| "speaks" | @Lucinda
