"I- no. It's fine. Just...echoes."

Zveran holds up his hand, as if wanting to coax Aten into it. 

He shifts a little closer, close enough that Zveran can feel the heat off him.

Zveran strokes a thumb through Aten’s flames. “My poor little fireball.”

He flickers a little, shy.

"We should probably leave before they try to send anyone after us."

"Don't be too shocked when I tell you this, but they don't usually do that. I've heard of summoners flat out dying during the prayer and the only reason they get found is the next summoner trips over them." 

Zveran stands, a little shaky, but intact. 

"Regardless." Masque shifts a little closer, half an offer of a steadying arm.

Zveran takes it gratefully, leaning into them. “Thankfully no puzzles on this side.”

"Small mercies." And so: leaving?

Leaving.

Zveran manages to remain upright all the way back into the main room, but his knees are shaking a little. Okay, a lot. He flags down one of the Guado priests. "I'll need to stay, recover my energy." 

"Of course, my lord summoner. This way!" The Guado directs them into a room set up like a barracks, rows and rows of beds. 

Masque regards the room suspiciously, and then guides Zveran to the bed furthest from the door.

Zveran collapses onto the bed, groaning. His hand slips down to catch around Masque’s wrist. 

“We won’t...be long...”

"Just rest."

“Okay,” Zveran mumbles, and his head drops to the side. 

His hand loosens around Masque’s wrist, but doesn’t actually let go. 

Well then. Masque settles down next to Zveran, keeping watch.

They are undisturbed, and weirdly true to his word, Zveran only sleeps a few hours, less time than he spent unconscious in the Chamber. 

He sits up, and rubs his eyes. "Right. Okay. We should get moving. Retracing our steps through the snow and Thunder Plains isn't going to be fun."

"We've done it once. We can do it again."

“True. And once we get to Bevelle, we’ll be back living in comfort. No camping for a bit. Won’t that be nice!”

He stands and stretches. He does note to himself, that he was making the assumption Masque was staying, but he felt almost secure that they were. 

They certainly don't seem to be leaving.

Zveran smiles softly, then turns a proper grin on Masque. “Let’s go.”

He leads the way out, collecting his pack on the way out. 

Masque shoulders their own and follows, back to being a silent shadow.

As they make their way across the ice bridge, Zveran notes their silence. He doesn't even know what to say to fill it. How to say thank you for staying. 

So he says nothing, and tries to fall back in step with them, rather than actually leading.

They let him, although tilts their head at him.

He smiles, warm, at them.