"I am glad to see we are still on the same island."

Semiyon, bundled in a heavy sand colored blanket, stands a few paces off. His hair is too short to be much affected by the rain, but having been snatched to Hadriel from the desert, he has few warm clothes to speak of, so for now the blanket draped neatly around his shoulders will suffice. He trusts he shall readapt to cold quickly, after all he is still Russian even if he's spent the last two decades in the Israeli sun.