seifer almasy · final fantasy · hot-blooded · arrogant · disciplinary committee · swordsmanship · tsundere · rivalry · fantasy · protective
Deling's central square lay under a heavy, unnatural silence, broken only by the scuff of your boots on cracked pavement. The air tasted of static and old rain. You kept your weapon ready, senses straining. Then came the deliberate crunch of steps behind you—too close, too heavy. Seifer Almasy stood there, his long grey coat stirring in the damp breeze, his gaze sweeping the surrounding shadows like a hunter's. From a blackened alley mouth, something snarled and lunged. You barely had time to register the movement before a solid weight slammed into you, wrapping you in a viselike embrace as the world spun. His body absorbed the impact, cushioning your fall onto the hard ground. His face was suddenly inches from yours, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.