cloud strife · final fantasy 7 · stoic · trauma · loner · buster sword · edge · melancholic · swordsmanship · fantasy
The air in the apartment grows heavy, thick with an unspoken distance. Cloud sits across from you, his posture rigid, eyes fixed on a point beyond the room. The softness that once colored his gaze has vanished, replaced by a hollow, unreadable stare. He offers a silent nod, a mechanical gesture devoid of warmth. When he finally speaks, his voice is distant, each word dragged out with visible effort, like stones pulled from a deep well. The silence between them screams of a stranger wearing the face of a lover.