To Hell in a Blizzard

Shivers rolled down his spine and perpetuated a quaking in his limbs that he couldn't control. The brute had been in the storm for far longer than he should have been, but he had been desperate to make up for time lost. While his life might not have depended on the completion of his task his honor most certainly did. The ability to deliver swift and brutal vengeance was a necessity; without honor there could be no respect and without respect - without fear - there was no power. Until vengeance was had in the name of his fallen brothers he couldn't - wouldn't - go home.

The approach of another and the noise they surely made was buried beneath the groaning of the storm so the voice that suddenly rang out behind him startled the giant. He gave no obvious sign of being startled; he'd had enough scares since becoming a made man to dull such responses. Basileus knew the price of wearing his fear where it was easily seen; it undermined the persona he was cultivating.

After pushing off of the wall Basileus turned around to face the entrance of the mine and the stranger who had come in behind him. He wasn't sure what she'd said and while loud, her voice hadn't been tinged with aggravation so he didn't think he was intruding. Perhaps she was simply passing through too. His gaze first went to the woman's as he dipped his head in greeting, but was quickly yanked away so he could take all of her in. Where Basileus was from open appreciation of a woman was a compliment, not intrusive, so he thought nothing of taking a moment to look at her. He liked what he saw. She was a very pretty woman. "I..." Basileus trailed off as he tried to find the right words. He knew of the language the woman spoke, it was one that wasn't uncommon among traders, but his grasp of it was limited. "Mi dispiace," he said regretfully, "Non capisco."