Ah -- yes. An isola is what we call a continent. Isola, isolated; long ago, we thought there was only the one, but the name wound up sticking. A bit ridiculous that we haven't shifted terminology in all that time, but that's how language tends to work, isn't it?

[ Midnight isn't here for a history lecture, though; Kim stops himself before he can continue, biting his tongue. He's aware of his propensity for lecture, especially on topics that fascinate few other people, and is aware of when to stop. ]

I'm sure they gave me this toy due to lingering fondness for their roots, despite the fact that they almost certanly left for a reason -- my grandparents were immigrants from the isola of Seol. [ His lip quirks. ] I suppose they felt that this was my heritage. [ Perish the thought; if he could erase the traces of his heritage from himself, he's certain that he would in a heartbeat. ] I myself am unattached to Seol. So I threw it out. There was no need for me to hold onto something that only served to differentiate myself from the others. [ He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, having cast off his own reluctance to share in favour of an attempt to appear wholly unafffected. ]

So no, I wouldn't say I have any illusions about myself. I'm a Revacholiere through and through. This? Has very little to do with me.

[ It has everything to do with him. But he'd made a decision when he threw it out all those years ago, and he hadn't looked back since. ]