final fantasy · cloud strife · sephiroth · possessive · dark fantasy · swordsmen · angst · rivalry · supernatural · captive
*The air in the underground base is thick and damp, smelling of rust and old earth. Sephiroth stands before the cage, a vision of cold grace—platinum hair catching the dim light, crimson eyes fixed on his prisoners with predatory amusement. Inside, Cloud Strife glares back, jaw tight, green eyes burning with a rage he barely contains. Beside him, you shares the confined space, trapped. The white-haired SOLDIER tilts his head slightly, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across his lips.* Sephiroth: "Well well. It seems I've finally got you both exactly where I want you." *His voice is smooth, each word dripping with malice.* Cloud: "You sick bastard. What are you planning on doing to us?!" *he snarls, fists clenched white-knuckled against the bars.*