A no less startling cold, yet beautiful land.  This one, fortunately, was a bit more hospitable than the frigid lands of the tundra by Cathedral Point; this, at least, had prey and life in it. There... the only life there had been him and the Lady Ootat, it seemed. Still, the mafioso did not regret going there; it was oddly peaceful, and the lady had been a welcome presence. Still, though, they parted ways; he had no interest in women. True, there was the allure of laying with one, but... he was not one who would go after an easy woman, nor a broken one. It was simply not respectable.

He sighed, taking his mind off of those thoughts. as it was wont to do lately, it drifted towards his blood brother, Basileus. Was the man alright? Did he find his prey - Vittore did not think of who the prey was - and eliminate the target, or was he himself destroyed in his mission? Or was he, like Vittore, simply wandering, at a loss of what to do with his life? Who knew, really. There was the chance he'd never see Basileus - or any of the cosca - ever again. That, in itself, was a saddening thought.

Perhaps wa even more saddening was his acknowledgement that that may end up being the case, the calm acceptance that was starting to flow through his mind. Regardless of what happened, though, he wasn't going to let it sour the beauty in these lands... and the bizarre features of it, as well. In this case... trees poking through ice. The tops of trees. And the bottom of the trees - and everything else - was incased in ice... and still green. How had that happened? It picqued the mafioso's curiosity, and he peered at one of the many branches, sticking his nose in between.

Bad decision. Immediately, cold stung his nostrils, and he pulled back, sneezing violently. Nope. Sneeze. Nope. Sneeze. He was sneeze not doing that again sneeze. Sticking his nose in an ice covered tree was not smart. Snorting, he sat his rump down on the ice, rubbing at his nose. Agh, why'd he do that?

"Speech" Italiano

An explosion of sound ricocheted across the terra and made Basileus tense instinctively. He stilled, ears pricking, as another sound and then another bounced off the trees. It took a moment for what the sound was to register. So he wasn't alone, eh? May as well say hi. Perhaps if he were lucky he could get lucky. It seemed like his life now revolved around quick fixes and throwaway lovers; something he recognized as deplorable and yet couldn't free himself from. If he were being honest he didn't want to. What else was there to do? The brotherhood was dead, his target - damn him - was beyond his reach. He was a soldier, a man, without purpose. And what was a man without purpose? With a lazy stretch and a groan Basileus slid out from under the low hanging branches of a massive pine tree. Nonchalantly he made his way towards the ice field where the sound had come from and, upon reaching the bank, half slid half stepped down onto the ice. He couldn't see or smell the sneezer but their final trumpeting had given him a pretty good idea of where they were. While he was still out of sight Basileus paused to give himself a once over. On the off chance the sneezer was a woman it wouldn't do him any good to flirt while looking like a mess. He shook out his coat to rid it off of its sleep-crumpled state and ran his tongue over his whiskers to smooth them. "Good enough," he decided, and with an intentionally lackadaisical swagger rounded the last tree that separated him from the stranger. Upon laying eyes on Vittore he froze. Quickly he recovered, his expression growing amused, and said dryly, "Ah, lui vive." Hover speech for translation

Holy crap he couldn't stop sneezing. He whined between sneezes, though they were thankfully much less violent and abrupt as the first few, as well as much farther in between. He rubbed his nose some more, scrunching it viciously into a snarl to try and dispel the infernal cold itch. Unfortunately, scrunching his nose made him sneeze. Muffled Italian curses flowed from him with the vivacity of a slum wolf from his old home. Never again was he going to try and sniff icy trees. He didn't even understand why it bothered him so much, or why it made him sneeze!

So disgruntled and preoccupied was he that he was completely oblivious to his brother's approach... until the familiar voice spoke. Jerking his head up from where he had been making funny faces to try to cure this sneezing, his eyes grew wide and he jumped up. Was this real? How did he go past his brother's scent? How'd he miss it? "Basi-" SNEEZE. Cut off mid-name, the violent sneeze was strong enough for Vittore's head to whip towards the ground, which in turn made him lose his balance... and dumped him rather ungracefully on the ice, limbs splayed and snow on his nose. "Dannazione cazzo ghiaccio non sono mai farlo di nuovo," he swore from his spot on the ground as he gathered his legs beneath him. Looking up at Basileus' no doubt laughing face, he huffed. "E così sembra che anche voi fate, mio fratello." Nothing could disguise the joy in his words at seeing his brother, but there was something else, too. The less experienced brother scowled up at Basileus. "Non che mi hai dato inclinazione hai fatto, stronzo." Seriously, couldn't Basileus just... let him know he still lived? Still, his tone was far from angry... that is, until he took a good whiff of his brother. Eyes narrowing, he glowered at Basileus. Was that the scent of women on his brother's pelt? Many women at that.

"Basileus!" This time, there was a hint of anger, and his bark was abrupt and sharp. "In primo luogo non si rimanere in contatto con me, e ora si sente odore di molte donne? Bah! Onore, Basileus! I Fratelli Rossi potrebbe essere caduto, ma ci sono ancora soldati! Noi non poniamo con le donne semplici! Noi siamo signori, e noi siamo tutto rispetto. Hai già dimenticato? Non ti ho preso per un uomo che avrebbe dimenticare il nostro codice così facilmente, Basileus," he scolded. Vittore was offended and upset with his brother, now, not only for losing contact but for losing all respect for himself and the remnants of their clan. It did not matter if the cosca had fallen - you still respect the laws, and the codes. "Noi siamo uomini d'onore e il rispetto, non è la feccia che vagano per questo mondo. Come oso si sfrutta donne facili!" It was... it was utterly dishonourable! How does his brother stand to allow himself get so low? He stood there, glowering down at his brother. Basileus was his brother by blood, but he was also tied to bonds even tighter than that: that of the cosca. He could not allow this to continue.

"Speech" Italiano

His amused expression grew a touch rude as his younger brother was cut off by a sneezing fit that ended up dropping him gracelessly to the ground. His words drew a chuckle from the bigger Scarlatti. Upon locking eyes with his unamused brother Basileus quirked an eyebrow, his expression rudely playful. "Non che mi hai dato inclinazione hai fatto, stronzo." At this Basileus tsked and in the common tongue, he said, "You are not puppy, Vittore. Unless I need to scruff you and carry you with me always?" His brother's next words sucked all the good humor out of him. Instantly his expression chilled. Only superiors got to speak to their underlings that way and Vittore didn't have a shred of superiority on Basileus, not in the cosca and definitely not in their blood family. Basileus' lips twitched and nearly rose in a snarl as he bit out a retort in Italian, "You do NOT get to lecture me, brother. Do not think you can lay all the blame on me; where did YOU go, Vittore? And," His eyes grew dark as their empty black centers widened and threatened to swallow up their color. "Don't you dare speak of honor as if you know everything. I have not forgotten our code or our people." Where exactly Vittore had gotten this grandiose idea about sexual purity or whatever he was getting at, Basileus didn't know. What each man did in his spare time was his business and his business alone, and while sleeping around wasn't something to openly brag about, that didn't keep most men Basileus knew from talking about their exploits among friends. Basileus had no wife and in seeking out lovers he hadn't damaged the honor of other mafioso or his own by preying on their women. He knew better. Basileus took an enraged step towards his brother but stopped just shy of doing what he wanted to do, which was take the pretentious little fucker to the ground and beat on him like he had when they were children. Most of the time Basileus was relatively calm when dealing with unpleasant situations, but there were a few things that riled him much quicker and honor was at the top of the list. Sure, if asked just a few short seasons ago if he had a woman Basileus would have been quick to point out that women were a distraction and that he had no time for distractions, but now he had all the time in the world. Continuing in Italian, he spat out the words, "Oh, please, spare me your righteous, goody two-shoe bullshit. We aren't saints. I'll fuck who I want and you will mind your own fucking business." His tail lashed back and forth as he eyed his younger brother. Still in Italian, he growled dryly, "If you want to hang onto your precious virginity, save yourself for some special woman, be my guest, but don't think you can impose that ideal on other men." Hover speech for translation

Damnit. Basileus responded in an irritating way, like always, and of course in the common language as opposed to Italian. Vittore made a disgusted tch in response. He didn't understand his brother's words - unlike him, he never learned the language and still had not been exposed much to it. He should, he knew, and would soon get to it; to be able to communicate in that language would be quite useful in this land. It was no longer an option like it had been in their old homeland.

Amusement - dry, hard, and bitter - crackled in his eyes. Oh, seemed he touched a nerve, hmm? The moment Basileus spoke, Vittore more than knew he touched a nerve - and admittably, he was right about his words as well, and Vittore did slightly incline his head, admitting the truth in the mafioso's words. He had disappeared as well, though he had not forgotten the meaning of respectful unlike his brother. Basil's angry spat words were met with the righteous indignation of Vittore, though his tone had calmed from the fury it was in before. "Truthfully? Exploring the land, searching for the remaining members of our cosca... and scouting out new lands," he answered in Italian, hoping the words would be enough to make Basileus pause. He truly believed there were more of them alive; more than just his brother and Vincenzo and... and Enrico. He believed that they could revive the cosca here in these lands, though only soldati still remained. He bristled slightly at Basil's other words. "Then act like it!" This time, his voice was exasperated and frustrated. He drew back his anger, slightly, knowing that to stay as furius and to sound as furious as he was before (and still is) would simply cause Basileus to close his ears and brain even more so. He could see the signs - and so, he withheld that anger and backpedaled a bit. He would never admit that what his brother was doing was alright (it wasn't), but perhaps retreating from the anger and instead being more calm and less scolding would be advantageous.

And of course, Basil kept snapping at him, and he rolled his eyes, standing his ground firmly even as Basileus stepped towards him threateningly. "Obviously we are no saints." The very idea was laughable - they were were perhaps the opposite of saints. They dealt with murder, and various other dark-natured things. But they were classy. They were gentlemen. You could not expect to be respected and feared when you went around smelling like a bunch of women. Obviously, men would have their exploits. But to lay with prostitutes constantly? Vittore hated it when it was a single prostitute, but so many that he could smell it on his brother's fur clear as day? It was disrespectful, dishonorable, and definitely would cause disrepute. Perhaps it was his frustration, or perhaps his incredulity, but Vittore laughed, chuckling low and long, shaking his head. Special woman? Now that was amusing. "You can fuck who you want," he agreed, "but it's certainly the opposite of classy when I can smell the many women on your fur." The amusement ran its course through him, and he eyed Basil hard. "I have no intention on 'saving' myself for a 'special' woman. But I sure as hell don't plan on appearing a classless bastard with no respect for myself." Which was exactly how Basileus appeared. "Which, dear brother, is how you would appear to any mafioso. It's one thing to have your affairs. It's another to reek of them. Especially if we've any hope of rebuilding what we lost." That was a goal for Vittore - rebuilding, and reestablishing their very purpose in life.

note;; everything here was said in italian, I'm just lazy

"Speech" Italiano

OOC: I don't want to translate either. Pretend with me! xD

"Then act like it!" At this Basileus began to seethe. This little shit was two words away from getting his ass kicked. He didn't know who exactly Vittore thought he was, but he did not get to police his brother, or any other mafioso for that matter. Unable to contain his rage, he roared, "YOU DO NOT GET TO PREACH TO ME VITTORE SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH BEFORE I SHUT IT FOR YOU!" He snarled, lips lifting to reveal his teeth, and the next time he spoke his voice was low, "One more word, Vittore. One more," his words were a dangerous promise, "And I'm going to beat you like I did when we were kids." He was so angry it took everything he had not to latch onto his brother and shake him like a pup. Basileus had to pause, had to take a moment to breathe lest he tear into his brother prematurely. "Now you are going to listen to me. Am I on a job? Walking among our people? No? Then who gives a fuck what I smell like, you pretentious prick! How old are you, Vittore, how new to the brotherhood are you that you think this matters? Huh? You greet your brother, maybe the only one you have left, and this useless 'smell like women' bullshit is what you want to say to him? Your only brother? Fuck you!" He paused, then spit again, "Fuck you!" Basileus paced a few steps away and then came back. "If this is all you want to say to me, Vittore, then you need to leave." Preferably without opening his mouth again, because there wasn't much more of this ridiculous bullshit Basileus could take. Hover speech for translation