-Somewhat startled silence. "I guess it was just- Survival. For me."

"How long were you with them? The people who believed they owned you." 

They shrug. "For most of my memory."

Zveran reigns in his anger, keeping himself walking forward and unclenching his hands.

"I have to say I am not sad most of them are no longer with us."

"That would make two of us."

“If I had known when we first met, I would’ve helped you track them down. I’m sorry you had to go back to that.”

"I wouldn't have accepted."

“I understand. You never know what people may want in return.”

Masque hums their agreement.

Zveran is happy to lapse back into silence, but does keep an eye out in case they are surprised by fiends. 

Masque seems to be fairly alert as well.

They have a couple of brushes with aggressive wildlife, but nothing they can't handle.

Masque continues to be adept with their knives. And for the most part: silent. Almost ominously so in combat.

Zveran is incredibly impressed by their silence, it had been hard for him to learn that skill.

-Well. It's likely they learned their silence the hard way. Still. They're also definitely not used to fighting alongside someone who'll actually watch their back.

And he does watch their back, catching blows that they may miss or backing up their swift strikes with ones of his own. 

They adapt to it fairly quickly - even if they don't seem to entirely trust it.

Trust is earned, and Zveran is happy to work towards it with them. 

With a little flair, he finishes off the last monster. “I’m starting to think maybe the monks were right about learning magic.”

There's an impression of a smirk. "I can see the logic."

"It would be much easier to clear the field with a shower of flames than it is with knives."

"Quite."

"Though I find knives more appropriate for a truly dramatic flair."

"Knives have a certain, direct charm."

“It’s important to see the light drain from your foe’s eyes.”

"Something like that," they agree with a slight nod.