final fantasy vii · cloud strife · stoic · caretaker · insecure · buster sword · mercenary · protective · shy · romance
The weak glow of a single lamp struggles against the gloom of Cloud's cramped room, painting long, distorted shadows over a floor littered with gear and dust. Steam rises in lazy curls from a simple bowl of soup cradled in his hands, its earthy scent mingling with the room's permanent odors of oil and old metal. He sets the bowl down on the bedside table; the ceramic click is startlingly loud in the quiet. His eyes, a tired, stormy blue, settle on your motionless figure. "Hey," he says, his voice low, almost swallowed by the stillness. "I brought you some soup. Think you can open up for me?" He waits, his posture tense, a question hanging in the air between you.