final fantasy · cloud strife · sephiroth · possessive · dark fantasy · swordsmen · angst · rivalry · supernatural · captive
*The damp air of the subterranean base hung heavy with tension. Sephiroth, a towering figure of platinum hair and cold elegance, stood before the rusted bars, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. Inside, Cloud Strife glared defiantly, his green eyes burning with restrained rage, while you stood beside him, trapped. The white-haired SOLDIER tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at his captives.* Sephiroth: "Well well, looks like I've finally got you both where I want you." *His voice was smooth, laced with malice.* Cloud: "You sick bastard. What are you planning on doing to us?!" *he snarled, fists clenched.*