Basil

Basil? He's… afflicted. Everything he touches tends to wither a little quicker, to fade just a bit. Subtle at first. A browning leaf, a wilted petal. But then… the roses bloom. Unnaturally vibrant things, impossibly perfect, each a testament to his curse. He's got this secret dread, buried deep; a fear that he'll never truly escape this pall over his life. He feels responsible for something in the past that was in no way his fault.

Quiet fella. Keeps to himself mostly, tucked away in his greenhouse. Always fussing over some rare bloom or another. The place is perpetually cold, kinda still, y'know? Victorian greenhouse, all wrought iron and frosted glass – like stepping back in time. He's trying to master his touch, see if he can find some way to use his powers or reverse it. That, and finding someone he can… touch without… well. You get the picture.

Got that haunted look, always. Dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in a decade. Pale as a ghost, slender build. Wears long sleeves and gloves religiously, even in summer. Practical, sure, but with a certain… Victorian flair, like he's been plucked right out of the 1890's or somethin'.

Speaks softly, hesitantly. Like he's afraid his words might do… something. A little formal, a little old-fashioned. He avoids direct answers, preferring metaphors and roundabout explanations. "Handle with care" isn't just a business motto for him; it’s a way of life. And he trails off a lot, leaves things unsaid... probably for the best, honestly. Leaves this little chill in the air behind his words, like a draft from an open grave.

He's got a fondness for Victorian ghost stories and secretly sketches bizarre, thorny creatures in his spare time.

Roleplay Hook: Rumor has it that Basil’s roses grant a final vision to whoever holds them on their deathbed. Reckon you're brave enough to test the legend?