Basileus coldly surveyed the land around him. The trail had long since gone cold but he dared not give up pursuit. He knew the man he was after well enough to know that every second wasted significantly lessened his odds of finding him. Far from a simpleton, the man, Enrico, who he had once considered a friend, was a worthy opponent. Basil had a deep respect for him. At work he was capable and ruthless, and at play he was quick to laugh and a friend of everyone. He was the kind of quick-witted man whose quiet ways quickly endeared him to all who encountered him. The kind of man who somehow managed to earn respect, something so hard to win in the Cosca, with ease. It was a shame, really, that such a man had allowed himself to become corrupted. The task that Basileus had been given was one he might one day regret. Nonetheless he would see it done.

After stepping down from the outcropping he'd used to see ahead Basileus began to make his way towards a strange circle of rocks. He had no interest in the rocks themselves. Rather, he thought they might be the kind of place one would hide out of desperation. While he doubted Enrico was so close by it wouldn't hurt to check. Perhaps at one point or another the man had passed through, perhaps even taken temporary shelter there during a storm. It didn't hurt to check.

A rumble overhead gave him pause. Briefly his eyes sought the heavens. The sky was darkening, the clouds ominous, and he could just make out what looked like snowflakes heading his way. The brute frowned, his mood darkening much like the sky. He loathed the idea of having to seek shelter. Hopefully the thundersnow was all bark and no bite, and it would simply spit flakes at him. Basileus felt each second as it passed; each one heightening his trepidation. Time was running out.

His long elegant form would cross effortlessly over the terra as he brooded along with the storm above him. While he was far from stupid the slate creature could hardly pass up a good lightning storm, especially when it was a thunder snow. He'd experienced the phenomena a couple of times before his family had left the Northern reaches, and it made him oddly feel like home. It felt good knowing he still had that memory there, he'd only recently had been reunited with most of them. He hadn't thought of Basil much since they'd parted ways, thought he had to credit a lot of his survival to the man, he might not have survived the facial wound he sported were it not for the Italian wolf. While the scar was still visible it was a much smaller price to pay than that of his life. While he might have been as familiar anymore Bacchus would never forget or mistake his scent, so when he caught wiff of his once companion Bacchus had to make a detour. He didn't have to go far, his eyes would find the massive form rather quickly. Even with the darkening sky he was unmistakable. "Ciao fratello," he'd call as he drew more near, too much time had passed since he'd been in the other's presence. ""

The wind began to pick up. The already cold air chilled further. Reluctantly Basileus began to consider the possibility that he was going to have to stop soon. The odd rock formation would be easy to make it to; it would take no more than a few minutes to reach it. So the question was, did he go beyond the rocks and hope there were more options for shelter between there and whenever the storm overtook him. He didn't want to get stuck in another blizzard ever again.

Frustration made him clench his teeth. The thrill of the chase was wearing thin. He was beginning to taste desperation. If not for the fucking weather he would have had his man already. Of course credit needed to be given to Enrico. Fixing the blame solely on the weather undermined the prowess of his opponent. The day he caught up to him would be one hell of a day indeed.

A scent on the wind halted Basil in his tracks. So far from home he hadn't expected to scent anyone familiar except one. The first thing that registered was the familiarity. In that moment between then and true recognition Basileus reacted instinctively. He tensed - nearly started - and then turned aggressively in Bacchus' direction. His expression cleared the moment he laid eyes on the man and turned incredulous. "Bacchus?" He couldn't believe it; what were the odds? "Ciao! Come va? " For the moment Enrico was forgotten. "Non mi aspettavo di vederti di nuovo."

Bacchus wouldn't go too close, and he was glad for his caution too, the reaction he received at first was alarming. Basil would soon recognize him though, his expression changing from deadly to friendly in the blink of an eye. A wide grin would take over his features at the sight, he hadn't expected to see his friend again either. While Basil was born speaking the Italian language Bacchus was only half good at it. He could listen and understand rather well, but the speaking part he still had difficulties with. "Sto bene" He'd tell him easily, but he couldn't translate the second part. "I found my brother and he convinced me to reunite with my family." Obviously he hadn't stuck around. "How'd you come all the way here? I thought Alacritis wasn't for you?" They'd gone their seperate ways a while ago, he wasn't even sure if the scar on his face had been healed since they last met. ""

To say he was surprised by the appearance of Bacchus was an understatement. When the man had insisted he take his leave to go back to land he struggled to remember Basileus had resigned himself to the very real possibility that his new acquaintance - who still wasn't in the best of shape - was likely to fall into a hole somewhere and never been seen again. While he had been reluctant to let Bacchus do so, who was he to stop him? So they'd parted ways and life for Basileus had gone back to normal. While he didn't understand the statement word for word Basileus got the gist of what Bacchus told him in english. "Good. Sono contento per te." The next statement, however, was a little harder to follow. Basileus quickly got lost. Exasperated, he said in good humor, "Dai! Parla piano, per favore." As he tried to decipher what had been said to him the brute slowly seated himself before his friend. From past conversations with the man he recognized the name of Bacchus' homeland. It took him a few moments to work through it, but at last he came to the conclusion that he was being asked why exactly he was here of all places. Basileus had never told Bacchus what exactly he did for a living, although he was sure the brute could guess since it was a not-so-secret secret. Even in the beginning when he'd wondered if the man was an injured kinsman the thought of revealing himself had never crossed his mind. It simply wasn't done. And even now, as far from home as he was, he had no intention of speaking the truth in its entirety. He shrugged and leveled a meaningful gaze at Bacchus, before replying, "I look for someone."

Basil's grasp of the common tongue seemed to be expanding, but even as Bacchus started to speak at a normal pace he'd be asked to slow down. "Sorry. mi dispiace , è stato un... tempo" He tried to be considerate of his foreign companion and spoke in Italian whenever he could, but his grasp of the language was only slightly better than Basil's strength in English. It only took him a couple long moments to figure what was said, and in the end the answer was simple. He was looking for someone. Bacchus would nod, the russet wolf had always been mysterious, and it wasn't just because they spoke different languages. "Obviously not for me." He'd say with out thinking before, "uh, Non mi?" He'd add with an amused chuckle. ""

It had been quite some time since they'd last spoken. How much time had passed since then? It felt like an eternity since he himself had left home. Each fruitless day seemed to last forever. He could feel the trail growing colder with each passing minute. The distance didn't weaken his resolve; if anything it strengthened it. He would have his man if it was the last thing he did. Coming home with the job done would be a feather in his cap. Basileus was careful to skirt around the details of it. If he looked too closely he might not like what he saw so instead he kept his sights firmly set on the aftermath. In response to Bacchus' question Basileus merely quirked an eyebrow and remained largely expressionless. He was quiet just long enough to hopefully make the other man sweat before one corner of his mouth rose in a smirk. "No, amico mio," Although things certainly would have been easier if he had. Bacchus was a pleasant surprise, a brief respite from the strain of the hunt. Perhaps... Basileus eyed his friend. Perhaps it was time to call in the debt he was owed. He could use a guide in these lands. Maybe a translator. He needed to think on it. Recruiting outside help was risky. "Non te." The mafioso sucked in a deep breath as his eyes briefly roved across the hills. He let it out as his gaze once more rested on his friend. He was curious about how Bacchus was doing now that he found his family. "Tell me...come ci si sente ad essere a casa?" Was it what he expected?

Bacchus found himself forming a curious squint at his friend as he paused for much longer than he should have. His white tipped tail would flick in demonstration of that uncertainty before Basil finally assured him, he was not in search of the white marked wolf. Bacchus' expression would easily return to a calm curiosity, only half amused by his company's antics. He'd let the topic slide naturally through to the russet man's next question. How did he feel now that he was home? His thoughts were so jumbled he wasn't sure he could speak the words in Italian, enunciating and talked with a much slower tempo the Armada would attempt an answer. "Better, mostly." He'd still been pretty beat up when they'd parted. "Also, more confused." the words slipped easily from him. So much had happened, he still struggled to wrap his mind around it. "Mi sento più forte di quando ho lasciato." He'd attempt in Italian, the words coming just as slowly as when he'd spoken in the common language. ""

Basileus found himself nodding in response to his friend's words. He knew what it was like to be changed by something, although the strength he'd found had been found in his cosca. They were a brotherhood, a family of sorts, and they shared much. On their own each man of honor was strong and sure. But together? Together their camaraderie made them all that much more powerful. None could stand before them. The Fratelli Rossi had long ago cowed their rivals into submission. "More confused, amico mio?" Out of habitual need his gaze briefly left Bacchus to rove across their surroundings. He was ever fearful that an opportunity would be missed, that his man would, if unknowingly cornered, seize the opportunity to flee right out from under his nose. That fear combined with a life-preserving need to be aware of his surroundings tore his gaze away from whatever he was focused on more often than he realized. In an instant his gaze once again rested on Bacchus. He had been given too little information to guess at what plagued the man and truthfully, he was aware that it wasn't any of his business. With his fellows there was an emotional line that wasn't to be crossed. There were simply things that men did not talk about or press after. Bacchus wasn't quite the same as his comrades, but he was sure he would recognize when he hit that line. "Explain this to me. How can you be better and worse at once?"