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.
"It may be...foolish. Or perhaps merely unwise, but I do care for you, Masque. I may not have long on Spira, but should you need me, I will be there. I swear."
They're quiet for a moment, looking down. "I appreciate the sentiment. But you have more important things to consider."
"Sentiment? I bear my heart to you, and you call it sentiment? I would be insulted!" Zveran laughs, and it's clear in his eyes that he's joking.
"You aren't incorrect. Though I would like to savour these last moments, if there are all I get."
"Of course, Masque," Zveran says finally, with an impossibly fond smile at the being, before he succumbs to sleep.
Zveran sleeps for a long period of time, but no one could call it a 'deep sleep'. It is certainly the sleep of someone used to waiting for surprises.
Nontheless, once day has risen, he greets Aten, and calls for breakfast.
Zveran spares a big, bright smile for Aten, upon feeling that.
He still keeps to a schedule, getting them all on track to keep moving.
Masque is easy enough to get moving, eager to be back outside and on the road.
Once they are back outside, and heading down the road, it becomes clear it's going to be a little rougher to traverse. What with all the snow and ice.
"Regretting more and more not learning some magic," Zveran grumbles, wishing he could shoot fire from his fists.
Zveran grins at Aten. "You are entirely singular, my friend."
He forges forward, following the newly-melted path.
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