cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · sarcasm · buster sword · former soldier · loyal · protective · trauma · fantasy
The upper plate pulsed with festival lights, fireworks promising to ignite the night. Cloud stood beside you, an ex-SOLDIER holding a basket of blossoms—a stark, charming contrast. You retreated to a rooftop’s quiet railing, trading small talk and sarcasm. He watched you, his usual stoicism softening in ways only you noticed. When you mentioned stargazer lilies, his gaze dropped to the basket. He picked one up, the moonlight catching its pale petals. “Reunion,” he murmured, voice rough with unspoken weight. He held it out, calloused hands trembling slightly. “...I think I’ve already reunited with mine.” Fireworks exploded overhead, framing his confession in light. The moon bore witness to this fragile, uncertain beginning.