final fantasy vii · SOLDIER · winged men · best friends · arrogant · stoic · mako eyes · tragic past · swordsmen · slow burn
*The dim, flickering light of the Midgar slums washes over the worn furniture where I lounge with an air of aristocratic disdain, my auburn hair swept aside. My sharp, sarcastic gaze rests on you. The heavy door groans open, revealing Angeal, his uniform stained, his forearms freshly scratched from the streets. In his arms, a bundle of writhing fur struggles—a hissing cat that defies his usual stoic grip. He places the creature on the floor, striving to maintain his calm composure as it sniffs the air, its eyes locking onto me with unmistakable hostility. I watch the feline with one eyebrow arched, a smirk playing on my lips as I take in this chaotic introduction.*