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It was evident without a word being said that Finn was not comfortable generally with the concept of bathing. It came screaming from his body language, his hesitance—and Kedean reasoned there could be any number of reasons for that, none of which were particularly his business. For his own part, he was satisfied the boy was cooperating and at least was not deathly afraid of water. It did seem pertinent to give him some space, in any case.

As he made it into his brother’s room, though, he couldn’t help but be reminded that he hadn’t entered it since the few days after the boy’s disappearance, when looking for signs of where he might have gone. Since then, it had remained untouched, all of his few remaining possessions sitting exactly as they had been and the very air of it still smelling of his space. As it might be for a deceased loved one—which was an uncomfortable thought Kedean chose to dismiss immediately.

Shaking it off, he moved for the trunk within which Zyric kept his clothing. It would have been in heaps on the floor if not for Kedean’s own efforts, so he knew exactly where to find them because he had placed and folded them. Unfortunately, as he surveyed what was available, it struck him how surprisingly right Finn was.

Personally, he had always thought of his brother as small. Their father was a massive man, and Kedean could only assume his own birth mother was not a small woman, either, for he had fully inherited that gene. Zyric’s mother — their mother — by contrast, had been a fairly petite Sautian woman, and he had always dwarfed his younger brother. But, that did not make Zyric small, and in the larger scheme of things he was likely actually a decently tall boy, and certainly filling out as he aged besides.

As compared to Finn, that contrast was only more grossly exaggerated, and all of these things would hang from his tiny figure. After only a minute or so of sifting, Kedean concluded that from among his brother’s few remaining belongings, all of them would suffice equally well — or poorly, depending on one’s perspective. But they would have to do.

When he re-emerged, Finn was fully in the bath tin still, and looked to have made good work of scrubbing his skin, his hair now loose and down about his shoulders in…‘tangles’ was perhaps the kindest word. He hoped they wouldn’t need either a special soap or to cut it all off entirely to deal with the matted nature of it.

What’s the stone for?

Kedean blinked, and glanced. “The soap?” he asked. “You rub it on yourself and it loosens dirt and oil, helps to clean, and improves odor. And I…do have both of those things.” He eyed Finn’s hair. “If you are determined to keep it all, it will take some time attempting to unmat that, but I can help you cut it if you prefer and it will only take minutes.”

While he supposed it was possible Finn wouldn’t trust him with a knife near his head, he personally felt that he trusted Finn less with a sharp blade and all that impatience. If he managed not to cut himself (which did seem to be a large ‘if’) there was still the near certainty that left to his own devices, the boy’s hair would come out all varieties of irregular length with potential bald spots.

“I would recommend rubbing the soapstone over all of you at least once, then rinsing yourself and climbing out to dry. I have clothing for you, and when you’ve gotten most of the water from your hair I can help you cut it and brush whatever is left.”

He set Zyric’s clothes, folded, to the side of the tub out of reach of the predicted spilling radius, and set a drying cloth slightly closer for Finn to reach upon exiting. Kedean still was not certain exactly what he was going to do with the boy, but he had seemed interested enough in the concept of using his magical talents for paid work and perhaps—with just a little luck and good faith on the part of whoever might be interested—it could be the kickstart to doing something again himself.

“Before we meet anyone of consequence, if you think you can manage, a demonstration of your current scope of control over your magic, I think, would be useful. I assume you have no formal training?”

If ye'r gonna kill me with it, you better be quick.

“Mm…” Kedean watched with careful regard as Finn pulled himself out of the tub. His malnourishment couldn’t have been better highlighted than to see him naked and drawn as he was. After he dried, and began pulling on Zyric’s clothing, it was only more fully confirmed.

Zyric had been and was a healthy boy. Perhaps even a touch larger than average, at least in terms of his height if not much else, and strong, for all that he was active and had inherited a good body and been a vibrant personality. But he had taken after their mother, certainly in part, and he was not that substantial—certainly dwarfed next to Kedean despite their being brothers.

And yet, his clothes swallowed the small shadow of a figure before him.

Then, Finnufarinel moved for the tub, and Kedean watched—first with curiosity, and then with quiet surprise and something akin to awe as steam plumed up and filled the dry air around them, the sound of furiously bubbling water dominating the scene as the water level dropped and eventually became indeterminable. Kedean had worked with, and fought many magic users of various stripes. His profession dictated it, and in the ring, it was common. He was known, personally, for what some referred to as being a magical sponge.

The searing fires, frigid constructed blizzards, and cackling lightning strikes of mages never seemed to have the effect on him that they did on others, as though his body buffered against and absorbed them naturally more readily than most. But it had the same effect on healing spells, in his limited experience, all of their effects diminished.

But due to his exposure, he knew what magic was when he saw it and what was to be expected of a certain age and class and rank and capacity.

This—no matter how it was classified, he thought as he glanced to the imprint of Finn’s hand at the base of the melted metal tub while the clouds of steam wafted away in the dry breeze—was impressive. He grunted, and stepped forward.

“This house is not worth burning,” he said as he moved behind Finn and drew a small blade. “And if I were here to hurt you, you would not be here now to draw breath…” He reached, lifting a small segment of wet, dark purple hair. “Hold still.”