[ Oh. This is quite possibly the first time that someone has asked him about his homeland, or at least in a long while. It takes him off guard for a moment as he deliberates answering. ]

... Snezhnaya is a nation of perpetual winter storms. It's not for the faint of heart, and if you aren't terribly careful, you'll probably die.

[ Still, though. He sounds fond over it. ]

My father used to take me out ice-fishing. It's among some of my fondest memories, growing up.