i will find another way

Sumayl didn't intend to sound like a parent, and in reality, the idea that he might have came across as such was enough to make the golden Ostrega cringe. Not that he didn't like kids, and not that, someday he didn't eventually want to be a father, but knowing how much he hated being told what to do by adults, or chided or whatever, made him sorry he had even opened his mouth to begin with. The other male was young, though Sumayl couldn't pinpoint an exact age. It was simply, easy enough to tell that the ebony creature currently standing in the river, was at the very least younger than Sumayl himself. Then again, a cold wasn't nearly as bad as pneumonia or whatever else the boy ran the risk of currently catching drenching himself in frigid water like that. The other, though, didn't seem all that concerned with the prospect of getting ill from the chill, responding that he thought it would be nice, and going further to explain that he felt like he'd been dwelling in a lava pit for the past week. “Fevers?” Sumayl inquired, mentally figuring — though he was no medic — that if he'd already been ill it would skip the cold and jump straight to pneumonia. His knowledge of such things came from his foster mother's near constant nagging and worrying over the things that he, and his siblings got themselves into growing up. Of course, being young was enough to give a false illusion of invincibility, though Sumayl, deep down, knew better. His biological parents hadn't been old and yet they had died tragically in the forest fire that had turned his life upside down. To this day, it haunted him, gave him nightmares, and made him terrified of fire. Sometimes, even, lightning bothered him, knowing that it could start fires and that it was close enough.

Since the Juvenile didn't seem inclined to care Sumayl rolled his shoulders in a simple shrug, muttering a “Whatever, kid,” under his breath. It wasn't Sumayl's job to take care of him, so in hindsight, he couldn't be bothered to care beyond the initial warning. Not to mention, it was easy to assume that most kids were like him: even if he was told he wasn't likely to listen. Sumayl learned his lessons the hard way because he was pigheaded ...which was still pretty true, despite that he was well into his adulthood. For a moment, Sumayl hesitated on if he should just leave and let the ebony boy go, golden gaze watching as he ducked his head under the water, seemingly content with his frigid swim/bath, though he stayed stationary when the Juvenile gave his head a shake, splattering Sumayl, who offered a disapproving frown, with icy droplets. “So what's your name, kid?” Unless of course, he didn't mind Sumayl calling him “kid” all the time. Sumayl wasn't the greatest with names unless it was important for him to remember them, in which case he applied the extra effort needed. "I'm Sumayl." The golden Ostrega offered, in case an incentive or pressure of society expectations was needed.