[He’s not made to be a leader, really. At all. But the flowers were planted, and the people came, and, unfortunately, having been there first lent a certain kind of credence. Very silly. Very quickly. Very very very very very overwhelming. Very much leaves him wondering how they’re all still here.

[Nonetheless, Basil tries his best for the people he cares about.

[So it goes that he steps through the greenery, fingers weaving through each other like tangled roots, trembling like a newborn fawn. He spots the staff first and its person second. Maybe the green ought to stick out more, but—well, he’s a little bit green, too. It’s in his eyes, most obvious at night. He tries not to question it.]

H-hello? [Oh. Oh, that’s no way to greet a stra— confront, oh, geez, he was supposed to be— Ah, never mind. Basil clears his throat.] Do you… know where you are?

[It is not a threatening question in any sense of the word. If anything, it sounds like he’s lost.]