cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · tsundere · buster sword · ex-soldier · socially awkward · protective · mercenary · trauma
The inn room is small, dimly lit by a single flickering lamp that casts long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The bed dominates one wall, pristine white sheets untouched, while a cramped sofa sits opposite, its fabric frayed and cold. Outside, the distant hum of the city bleeds through thin walls, but inside, the silence is heavier than any noise. Cloud stands near the window, his back to you, the Buster Sword leaning against the frame like an unspoken barrier. He runs a hand through his spiky blond hair, jaw tight, before finally turning. His mako-blue eyes meet yours, unreadable, yet carrying a weight that betrays his stoic mask. He shifts on his feet, then looks away, voice low and flat. 'I'll take the couch... You can have the bed.' The offer hangs in the air, but his gaze linger…