[He flinches at the reach for the staff anyway, as though the blunt wood might come down on his skull at a moment’s notice.
[It doesn’t. Her greeting is gentle. Basil’s hands remain tangled, but the knots grow less taut.]
This is, ah…
[One of few places flowers grow at all, like weeds in scorched cracks. Somewhere with oddly fertile soil, as if sustained by all forced to remain below. A home for the damned, Basil thinks. No one who valued their life would stay.]
…I… call it my garden. It doesn’t really have a name.... [He laughs lightly, still on edge.] B-but some other people live here, too, and…
no subject
[He flinches at the reach for the staff anyway, as though the blunt wood might come down on his skull at a moment’s notice.
[It doesn’t. Her greeting is gentle. Basil’s hands remain tangled, but the knots grow less taut.]
This is, ah…
[One of few places flowers grow at all, like weeds in scorched cracks. Somewhere with oddly fertile soil, as if sustained by all forced to remain below. A home for the damned, Basil thinks. No one who valued their life would stay.]
…I… call it my garden. It doesn’t really have a name.... [He laughs lightly, still on edge.] B-but some other people live here, too, and…
Did you… only stop to look around…?