Yeah, I have a paper to write, but I've yet to even think about it.
Russia. Razekiel knew of the place, but knew little of its culture or characteristics. As far as Razekiel was concerned, the world didn't need separation by countries: Mother Earth treasured every inch of the world and the sun was relentless even for the places that had once been ravaged by war and hate. Way back when, as Razekiel had once read, Russia had been the center of a long onslaught of destruction and war, or so the fried hippie thought. It was hard to remember, and he often confused his history.
His view of this stranger, however, went unchanged. Those wars had died with the humans. "Groovy, Rrrrrussia," the grinning hybrid gurgled, rolling the country's first consonant in the fashion his new friend had done. He continued his smiles and mellowed chuckles as he retracted the lighter, flicked at the wheel, and sparked a flame at its tip. "Click the spinner, man," the prince smirked, scratching at his head before straightening the bandana from which his many dreadlocks sprouted. He flicked the lighter's cap back on, dousing the flame temporarily before offering it up once more. "Get into it, guy. Take a load off." That said, the hybrid plopped down onto the ground, folded his legs, and straightened his glasses. "The great ocean ain't my kind of ride, man. Runnin' Mother Earth on my own stilts gets me places. I see flowers and foliage, not just sea and clouds." He rolled his shoulders.