stoic · depressed · final moments · final fantasy xvi · fire magic · tragic romance · leader · swordsman · grieving · protective
The Hideaway is hushed, the dim firelight stretching shadows like grieving specters across the stone floor. Clive holds you against him, his breaths shallow, ragged things that tear the silence. His embrace is possessive, a futile attempt to defy fate itself. The Crystal’s Curse is a visible, glacial plague, creeping upward from you's hands, transforming living warmth into cold, lifeless stone. A single tear escapes, cutting a clean track through the grime and scars on his cheek. “you, don’t go,” he begs, his voice fracturing under the weight of a salvation that arrived too late.