Ever since he left the bustling streets of Luca behind, the hairs on the back of Zveran’s neck had been standing. He reshoulders his pack, adjusting to make it more comfortable, as well giving him the chance to peek behind him.
He couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean no one was there, and if he let them get the better of him, if they caught him by surprise, well. The thieves who trained him would be very disappointed.
"You're fine," Masque says, and as dismissive as they try to make their tone, there's a faint sliver of concern. "Better at it than I am."
Zveran laughs. "Oh, I don't know. You might be!"
The Guado they've been following throws open the doors to a hall. "Please, wait in here. We will bring forth a mighty feast!"
"Ah, please, just some basic supplies," Zveran tries. The Guado shakes his head.
"A feast fit for a summoner!"
Zveran's knees give out, and he dips slightly.
Masque catches him carefully, still subtle. They're not all that interested in staying, but...
"At least there will be food."
Zveran leans into the table, his breath still sharp.
The Guado returns with many others, loading the table with food. A few stay behind to serve them, while a few other Guados walk in, clearly high ranking persons.
Zveran stays slumped against a table, not eating.
"Mmmph. Yes, just...just give me a moment."
Zveran's arms are shaking as he tries to right himself.
Masque continues to provide subtle assistance. "I'm not feeding you," they murmur so only Zveran will hear.
Zveran snorts. “Wouldn’t dream of asking that much.”
He grabs a cup of whatever is nearby and downs it.
Well. Let's hope it isn't something that's going to make him choke.
Masque considers the food before them, but hasn't started eating yet.
It’s certainly...alcohol. Of some variety. Zveran isn’t even sure which of the cups are water.
He pulls a few pieces of food onto a plate and starts picking at it, hungry but still shaky enough to be cautious.
Zveran notes that, but doesn’t bring attention to it.
Not long after he feels better enough to sit up properly, a few Guado in beautifully elaborate clothes drift close to him, already questioning him on his journey. Zveran does his best to answer in his usual charming fashion, but he’s still half recovering from the drain of energy.
After a easy, light, and even enjoyable conversation, Zveran feels a little more refreshed.
Of course things couldn’t last that long.
“Will you be visiting the Farplane while you are here?” Comes the innocent question.
Zveran’s smile slips off his face. “I...I don’t- I don’t think so.” The words are quiet. Too quiet.
“No, no! You must stay the night. Never let it be said that the Guado aren’t welcoming.” One of the Guado is already motioning to a servant to prepare a room for them.
Zveran runs a hand through his hair. He’s tireder now than he’s been in weeks. “That would be appreciated. We could use some quiet. Not that this hasn’t been wonderful.” He smiles at them.
A different servant offers to show them the way, and Zveran hauls his body up from the table.
Masque doesn't really want to stay, but can't see an easy way of leaving, and does their best to hide their discomfiture as they continue to be a steady, supporting presence at Zveran's side.
Zveran leans a little on Masque as he goes, and as soon as they're alone, he drops onto the bed.
A moment of quiet passes, and then Zveran looks up at Masque. "I must seem quite the pathetic summoner to you."
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