[ Good day to beat tedium to death, Rean. Like any other day, recognizing that his bloodlust never cools off, only abating in the face of peril. Taking these moments one at a time, he's meeting whatever's willing to greet him, ally or foe. Case in point: this oh-so-friendly stranger, drinking in his gaze. ]

Truthfully, it reminds me of home. [ The chill in the air is blotting out even the skies; it's cloudy today, the threat of rain following the horizon, but Childe's in good spirits, like that'll drive the cold out of his skin. ] So I understand the sentiment. I grew up in a fishing village. Anywhere you looked, the mountains were always somewhere in view. And just about every day, it'd snow. Never mind the howling wind. It's not a sight you easily forget.

[ Making a show of folding his arms, Childe's posture remains open and inviting nonetheless, far too languid in the cold. ]

Well, enough reminiscing from me! Looks like I've wandered somewhere I shouldn't have. [ So there is some self-awareness in him as an intruder, enough that he's sparing a glance away from the outcropping of trees to regard the farmland. ] Tell me, are you merciful with trespassers?