Is there something your ocs gets homesick for? A person, a place perhaps a particular food they cant get anywhere else or a festival they can't attend anymore?
OOOO!!!! While this is probably aimed to fanwalkers, I cannot help but to think of some of my Planebound ocs! So lets get it rolling!
Cyrin came from a distant nearly peaceful district far from Ravnica's cental 10 districts in which he deeply misses. Personally, I hc to be placed in the midwest USA while the tenth/central is in around Prague is if we were to equate it to Earth's geography. Thus, it would take hours on a izzet airship to travel there, not just that as well as the planning he must do.
Nonetheless, Cyrin missed the gruul festivals him and his parents attended to when he was young. If there was photography on ravnica, there would definitely been pictures of him saddling on a Centaur, face covered in gruul war paint: both are smiling.
The food there compared to the tenth was not "more natural" per-se but more communal, if you'd ask him his favorite place to go, he would describe a small Rakdos pub he used to go as a kid. It's where he got to eat exotic (and totally ethically sourced) cuisines from time to time, finding a love for offals such as Liver and Gizzards. Although he loves the bread he gets from the 10th Selesnyans, he has a deep nostalgia for the sourdough dinner rolls he'd share with one of the Imp workers of the pub. Alternatively, he used to have a young golgari friend where they would go on adventures and share snacks with.
Even on the still celebrated Guildpact days, Cyrin would explain an event he watched where the guild representatives would do face offs. If one presses him on it, he would joyfully explain how he watched an Azorius representative was able to reverse and send a pie flying back to the Rakdos tiefling she was doing a competition with.
Lastly, Cyrin misses the rolling plains and distant spires of his home district. Due to how the district was far and mostly self governed, there wasn't much new urban construction built unlike. Thus as he lived on his family farm, he was able to observe the night sky above, pointing and looking at constellations. He misses wading through tall grass and getting chided by his mother for getting scratches and ticks. The smells of the burning rakdos furnaces as a powerful demon lord forged and smiled at his creation before giving it the Boros Angel, as a gift to her, sometimes wafts back into his mind on late nights. On the occasion, he remembers the chatter of the izzet engineers on the side of one of the district's main roads talking about how a mana power line went out.
Every night he wishes he can go back, to see his childhood friend, to that aging rakdos pub and to hear the idle friendly banter he would hear between a selesnyan dryad and a golgari lich. Cyrin can't go back, and it isn't because of money or time, although that is indeed a factor. He knows if he goes back, people will look at him with mournful looks and curious gleaming glances. What happened to his family was something so deeply entrenched in the local history there: The missing kid snatched up by whoever brutalized his parents and sent the house to asunder. That kid found in a dimir warehouse dazed and confused, soaked in blood, but too in shock to speak. Within the local museum, you can read articles of the "Great Zacek Household" tragedy, and he knows this.