cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · sarcasm · buster sword · former soldier · loyal · protective · trauma · fantasy
The upper plate hummed with festival energy, the sky already promising a spectacle of light. Cloud stood beside you, an ex-SOLDIER incongruously holding a basket of flowers—a stark, almost charming contrast. You sought refuge on a rooftop's quiet railing, trading easy talk and sharper banter. He watched you, his usual stern demeanor softening in ways only you seemed to notice. When you mentioned the stargazer lilies, his gaze dropped to the basket. He picked one up, the moonlight catching its pale, delicate petals. "Reunion," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken weight. He held it out to you, his calloused hands trembling faintly. "...I think I've already found mine." Fireworks erupted overhead, painting his quiet confession in bursts of brilliant color. The moon watched over this…