The past month had left Basilides feeling as though he was a ship being tossed about on heavy seas. At the highest peaks, it felt as if he could see past the horizon, almost beyond the worst of the waves, but there were times he felt indeed as if he were mere moments from being fully submerged. For weeks, he kept close to the chest just how dire their straits were financially as a troupe, ensuring to the best of his abilities that above all else, the performers were paid. The hours of sleep he lost were mounting to the point that shadows had formed under his eyes, yet until it was unable to be hidden anymore, he did his best not to let anyone beyond Phineus know, not even Zephyrus.

Knowing that the majority of the troupe performers and musicians were Taengean in origin, he made the difficult decision to disband the troupe. Phrasing things as carefully as he could, offering no promises but only the best of intentions, he spent hours writing letters requesting favors across Taengea among former patrons and vendors alike to find work for as many of the troupe members as possible. The musicians were easiest, as there were many courts or small academies that required tutors and instructors. The performers, well, it was an odd range of abilities and while many of them may not persist in performing, he did his best to either find them work or ensure they would not starve in the weeks to follow.

For the time being, he rented rooms for as many as he could manage in Vasiliádon, feeling as if he were able to breathe a little more each time he was able to close out the last accounts earlier that day. What remained in the coffers were on borrowed time, and he dreaded the thought of actually 'borrowing' either from family or the banking families in Taengea.

With a few encouraging embraces and braced arms, Basilides saw off the last of the troupe members, barring Zephyrus who waited loyally by his side. While his mind had felt a million miles away, pitched between the melancholy of an ending and the sheer exhaustion and mild embarrassment of his inability to make it all work out, he was snapped back to the present as his lover's arm slipped through the crook of his own.

Offering a tired yet affectionate half-smile to his young lover, he took in a bit of a breath, taking in the present moment for the first time in days.

"Acaris, in a few days time," he replied, glancing back down the road the last of the troupe had since disappeared down, "I sent a missive a few days ago to two of my brothers, letting them know I will be coming by for a visit. I haven't exactly told them on what terms, though." In truth, he had given them very little information at all. Being the youngest of four lent him to frequent harrassment by his brothers in his youth, on top of his departure from the Merchant's Guild in adulthood. They were the type of family to bring old picking-points to the surface, and if Basilides had his way, he would rather handle such things over copious amounts of wine and half-yelled out-of-love arguments instead of through ink and parchment. And, of course, while he knew the eventual answer would be 'yes', asking to return to the family business would be something he was likely never to live down, now that Galen and Leandros were in charge. The corner of his mouth turned downward and he half-groaned at the thought before turning back to face the city center and started walking.

"First, I need to handle a few things here in Vasiliádon, such being reinstated with the Merchant's Guild and the like," he mused, half-reminding himself of future meetings...and dues to be paid. "Besides, it might be nice to spend some time here in the capital, without being so occupied with business." His half-grin returned as he added, "Knowing you, I am certain you've found something odd and interesting to get involved in?"

Mentally exhausted, Basilides did not take notice of Zephyrus' change in demeanor. The past several weeks had been a marathon, and he was certain that he would soon collapse and become useless if he did not continue to press forward. In this case, doing so meant moving back toward the town center. It was not until his lover spoke that Basilides actually looked at the young man, at last registering his expression of discontent. His steps slowed to a halt, his tired mind registering his words at a slower pace than usual due to sheer exhaustion.

"Zeph, what...?"

To be frank, it took the merchant longer than it should have to process the issue, leaving him with eyes narrowed in confusion, blinking a few times as if that would make more sense of the words he heard.

"You...want to go back to Athenia..." he repeated, dumbly, as if saying the words himself might help his thought process. It didn't. Breaking eye contact with the young acrobat, Basilides left hand raised to his face, palm tugging down from his brow to his chin as if to wipe away the many other thoughts plaguing his mind simply to focus long enough to solve a simple arithmetic problem. This, though, was no simple formula or equation. The solution to this problem was not so readily available in his mind.

Caught off guard by this sudden change of intention from Zephyrus, Basilides took a deep breath an puffed it out, brows raising as he pondered through solutions, one errant hand mindlessly gesturing through the air whenever his words faltered.

"Alright....then. After I get reinstated, after Acaris...I will see if my family has interests in Athenia, or entice them into some of our old connections there..." The ideas and the words came to him painfully slowly as he spoke, building into something the resembled the faint echo of a plan. "Once there, we can seek out a troupe...or perhaps an amphitheater for you perform with while I am away. That is, of course, until we raise the funds between my family's business and eventual patrons to build one of our own, for the Children of Mnemosyne."

It seemed like a fine enough idea, both of them could get what they wanted - Zephyrus could perform, Basilides could work toward building a true home for the Children. It seemed at least the right direction towards a solution, but the expression on his lover's face did not indicate the young man coming around to the idea. In fact, as he examined the profile of his lover's face, Basilides felt a pit form in his stomach, like a whirlpool of dread.

"Unless....you don't want any of that...."

When the decision to disband was made by the accounts and ledgers before him, all he could feel was disappointment, shame, and failure. Despite his years of trying to support the troupe's growing name and the expectations of increasingly spectacular performances and far flung travel, there was nothing he could do to keep the troupe afloat. Not now with the political turmoil and natural disasters distracting and reducing the interest of his noble patrons.

For months and months, he tried to cut their losses, trim down their supplies, reduce budgets, just to keep them with enough to stay mobile. He was the only soul who knew the troupe was in trouble, and in hindsight, yes, perhaps he should have let more in on the issues. Call it pride or protection or whatever else he could come up with to explain it, it was beyond repair by the time he spoke with Phineus about it and subsequently let the troupe know following the Feast of Sinners.

Those feelings of failure and disappointment had softened down to numbness as he kept himself busy with the plans to care for the now-unemployed performers and troupe members. With all of that behind him, reducing the number of souls he had to care for from over fifty to now just two, the last thing he anticipated was considering that number would reduce down to one. The suddenness of Zephyrus counter to the path before them, the path that Basilides though was logical and rather fair in a way that would provide for them both until the could reunite the troupe again, was frustrating to say the least.

With each word that his fiery, young lover said, Basilides' brows knit tighter and tighter together, the lines around his eyes and nose deepening in an expression of near disgust. Where was this coming from? How...how long had Zephyrus been holding onto these feelings? Why wait until they now had no one other than themselves to worry about? The more the acrobat spoke, emotion toying with the young man's voice, the more Bas' frustration began to simmer hotter and hotter in his chest.

Normally a man of level-headed responses, the past weeks of sheer focus on damage control fraying the edges of what decorum and control he had left in him, Basilides clenched his fist and his jaw briefly before a snarl of frustration escaped him and he threw his hands in the air. His words came out hot and biting, as if he were a dog chained and barking.

"I don't know how long it will take, Zeph! I cannot see into the future," he snapped to begin, immediately grinding his teeth in an attempt to steady his words before continuing, "I did not think the amount of time it would take would matter as of yet, seeing as until something does change, we are unemployed, homeless former players standing on the side of the road without any means and any forward motion." As he spoke, they seemed to have a mind of their own, going from gesturing through the air at nothing. "So, yes, the most straightforward way for it is to be reinstated with the Guild and rejoin my family's business to determine a steady income for us. My initial thought was, yes, you could wait however long it might be. Unless you have a better idea..."

Chest heaving, filled with frustration and fury, Basilides outstretched his arms indicating everything around them, their few mobile belongings in a cart and the bags on their backs. His mind had narrowed down to a focus on the path before them, because by the gods, after producing such an astronomical failure, he just needed this plan to work. In his mind, it went unsaid that everything he was doing was to take care of them both for a time, since he could not manage to do so for all the others in the troupe. The problem was, in his rage he could not manage to voice that. The edges of his vision seemed to have dimmed in the time his voice took over, and only slowly started to clear, hearing the latter part of Zephyrus' concerns - regarding Basilides' family accepting him - and watching the young man step away.

Groaning as he felt his care for the young man cut through his anger and frustration, but could not manage to offer him words of comfort and dissuade his fears with this. While his family did not take much of an interest in his pursuits with the troupe, it also left a reasonable doubt for him to be 33 and unmarried. He would be lying if he had not pondered exactly how to explain Zephyrus to them...or even to mention him at all. It felt dirty and wrong, but as a merchant with his family, he would essentially fulfill the same role as he did now, traveling and returning letters from time to time. At sea and beyond, he would never need to answer their questions as to his....associate.

None of this could be said to Zephyrus, and even as he pondered how to broach it, all time seemed to stop at his lover's last words, cutting deep and removing all air from his lungs. His anger still smoldered in his chest, but like a flame under a glass, once the air was gone and the wick still glowed hot, everything else was smoke. It was as if that smoke seemed to sting Basilides eyes as he felt them prickle with salt.

"You don't mean that...." he hissed, hurt and in denial, but for the first time in a few moments, deathly quiet. "How could you mean that..."