[ Kahlil allows himself to be handled easily, offering now resistance when he takes his hand. He notes the softness of Rhy's palm against the back of his hand - like those of a scholar, or a wealthy son. ]

It's not common. [ Magic. Witchcraft. Those with god's own bones, those who could become ushiri'im were rare. At the second question he frowns to himself, lifting his gaze from his palm to Rhy's face again. ]

Some magic is more destructive than others... not like this. [ He nods to his palm, smiling faintly at Rhy again. It's colored with amusement when he mentions it shouldn't leave a scar. His arms and chest are covered in them. ]

Good, because I barely have the room left for another one. [ But more seriously, he inspects his hand, tracing the pink line of healed tissue. ] This is good work. Thanks.