Weaving through those people, Belen found himself looking down, his eye wanting too keep away from anyone who may of caught his glance. He found his eye fixated on Zephyrus' hand. It was simple, yet after so long, it was so familiar. Yet Belen didn't have the luxury to linger on the past, his mind and memories didn't allow it for the most part. Too much had happen, too much clouded his judgement, too much seemed to get in the way. Yet even with those obstacles he still found a sense of calm arising around him as he was lead out of the tent.

Lead out outside of the tent, Belen's eye rested on the sun, it's mass almost invisible by the darkened horizon. Oil lanterns lit the area with that orange glow of flame, yet even that just became faded lights in the background as he was brought to the darkened corner. His eye looked up to his former lover. Even after so long, Belen still found his gaze lingering on the acrobat for longer than he should of, and with his touch running across his face, he found the words crumbling into dust in his mouth.

Pulling himself out of that pit, Belen turned his head to the right as to hide the patch from view. It was apparent by his body language alone that he hated the attention he had gotten. Even the sympathy Zephyrus got seemed to be too much for him. Belen was never extroverted, although Zephyrus probably knew that better than anyone, yet his only time when he came out of his shell was from their days terrorizing the residents of Aetaea, stealing or those nights they would just spend together. Yet nowadays those where nothing more than memories.

Lifting his hand, his fingers gently curling around Zephyrus' arms and pushing it down slightly. Even his touch seemed to be too much for the dishevelled archer. "No Zephyrus, nothing is alright." His tongue curled with guilt and disdain. His eye wandered off into the distance but never focused on anything. "I... I ran into a group of pirates, fought them with every fibre of my body, but, but..." Belen could feel the unrelenting rage swirling in the pit of his stomach, yet his throat chocked on the overwhelming sadness running around his head. His eye welded up, tears threatening to spill and roll down his cheeks. "They threw me down and broke my fingers, they took he eye Zephyrus, he took the one thing my mother gave to me."

Tears ran down his cheek, but Belen didn't care. So much emotion, so much fear and anger had been stored up in himself in the last month of his life, and even if he didn't want to show his true scars now, it seemed he had no choice in the matter. Turning his back to Zephyrus he brought his wrist up to his cheek whipping off the tears that stained his cheek. "I'm sorry... Not the greatest first impressions after so long."

The performances continued as planned within the tent, with nobles and commoners alike engaged in the performances. According to the schedule, the show would continue on for another hour, with smaller, more interactive forms of entertainment taking place afterwards. That would be when Basilides would find himself the busiest, greeting with past patrons and connecting with new potential supporters. Everyone, he learned, loved to have their name attached to something that was a proven success. The fact that the tent had not burned down was a success in itself, considering the unplanned burning hoop that he would certainly have word with Phineus and Zephyrus over. However, having had the two Princesses of Athenia and other nobles of note display such interest in the performance was perfect credence for others to support the troupe, their coins landing firmly in the Producer's outstretched hand.

His dream of a permanent home for the Children of Mnemosyne was so close, he could taste it. Perhaps, here in Athenia, the crown would have been so pleased by the Children's professionalism and spectacle that they would be willing to become permanent patrons, perhaps even fund construction on a true amphitheatre of their own. Wouldn't that be lovely? Another token for the kingdom to hold in its hand for the ever-present battle of bragging rights between the kingdoms. His mind continued to cycle through the various ways to spin the idea, hearing the jingle of coin in his mind.

As the dance began, he knew the staging area behind the fabrics would be emptier, and would make for a better opportunity to get a decent read from Eteon, their trusty manager, as to how the rest of the show would go. Once the lights dimmed, it truly was his show, and he took no the task wonderfully. Slipping through the dark fabric, he found him quickly, folio in hand and pointing to the next act, ordering them quietly and sternly to prepare. As he worked through that, he looked around an noted a particular mop of dark hair was missing. Eteon looked around as the Producer mentioned it, shrugged, and continued on his business.

Bas' brows knit together, giving the staging area another look around before slipping through a flap in the side of the tent, cautious not to let any exterior light in. It took him a moment, blinking against the contrast. Straightening his himation and slipping his own folio under his arm, he started around the perimeter of the tent, peeking between the smaller storage tents to see if he could find his young lover. How odd for him to disappear...

Even through the din of vendors and cart wheels rattling, he could hear a familiar voice just ahead, talking to someone.

"Zephyrus?" he called out, trying to balance his volume so as not to draw much attention from the tent behind him. He continued forward, turning to see a darkened corner with two figures, one familiar and one unknown. His sandals seemed adhered to the ground beneath him as he watched the brief exchange, his lover's hands having cupped the other man's cheeks in a way that indicated a connection. An all too familiar connection.

Basilides was no actor, but he knew how not to make a scene. That being said, a range of emotions played across his face - shock, hurt, disgust, and others he had no words for - before he cleared his throat.

His eyes sharply glanced over the other man. It took a moment before he noticed the eyepatch in the dark, and the sheen of tears on the man's cheeks in the faint light. Something had happened here, something Basilides could not identify but deep in his core did not like. It was not the first time that he had come across Zephryus' 'acquaintances' before and knew it. They had lived entire lifetimes before one another, and while neither could claim to be entirely faithful to one another, they were both guilty of being territorial over one another. It was a cruel game they played with each other, and if Bas was being honest, he was far more guilty than Zeph ever was of this kind of damage.

Perhaps, though, because he was not so often given a bit of his own medicine, it stung deeper.

"You know how Eteon hates performers sneaking off during the performances," he said, his voice almost flat in an attempt not to let it be peppered with the whirl of emotions in his chest, "You could miss a cue..."

Bas knew full well that the young acrobat did not have any cues upcoming. Barring the finale, he was essentially through for the evening. It was a targeted barb, calling back to missed cues that their own dalliances had caused in the past. It was meant to cut without letting his 'friend' know. No couple should quarrel in public.

Of course, not wanting to tarnish his own appearance of professionalism, he looked to the other man with a brief bow of his head and added, "The performance is continuing. I would hate for you to miss the second act."