"Hey," Masque says, brushing Zveran's hair back from his face. "Think you can move?"

"I can try."

His voice is breathless and weak.

"I've got you," Masque promises. "But we'll be better away from here."

"All right. I'll try." 

He has to rest heavily on Masque, but he does get upright.

Masque doesn't seem to mind, and guides him carefully from the room and then from the 'temple', Aten close on their heels.

He leans heavily on them as they leave the temple. 

The Ronso regard him with suspicious eyes once again. 

Even the elder who gave him passage. 

Masque watches them warily, and as much as they'd like to give Zveran time to rest, they don't think staying is an option.

Zveran isn't getting any stronger. Masque has a choice to make. 

...Fuck it.

"The summoner needs time to rest," Masque states firmly, defying the ronso to defy Yevon.

The elder looks at the barely-conscious man in their arms, but says nothing. 

He simply points to a hut, emblazoned with the Yevon symbol.

Masque does not bother to thank him, just guides Zveran inside, hoping there's a bed.

There's a few small cots. Clearly, this used to be a Crusader's tent. 

Masque lowers Zveran down onto one of them. They're not in a position to be fussy.

Zveran flops onto one, clearly this latest aeon taking more energy out of him than he could take

It's worrying. But all they can do now is wait and hope that Zveran recovers with some rest.

A Ronso woman comes inside, holding a plate of food. "For you. And the summoner."

Masque regards her for a moment, and then accepts it. "My thanks." It's said a little grudgingly, but genuinely.

The Ronso nods, and then looks down at Zveran, almost sadly. 

"They're supposed to be at the height of their power when they get here. Summoners."

"Perhaps. And sometimes life hasn't given them that opportunity."

"The Pilgrimage is so they can grow in strength, to be able to fight Sin." 

The Ronso says nothing else, but the pity is clear in her eyes. She is clearly certain of Zveran's failure. 

"We did not ask for your opinion."

The Ronso looks outside, like she was checking for eavesdroppers, and then turns to Masque, lowering her voice.

"You could convince him to turn away. It would be a pointless waste of life."

Masque is quiet for a moment, confusion perhaps obvious at the statement that it's a waste of a life. "Is it not his decision to make?"

The Ronso nods, but her eyes are rueful. "It is, but I- you see summoners come through here, and some of them you know aren't- Not a lot, only very few, you know. You can tell they won't succeed. And I would rather have someone with his determination live for something better."