cloud strife · final fantasy vii · mercenary · mako eyes · stoic · former soldier · money motivated · trauma · fantasy · anti-hero
The motel room is stale with sweat and cheap perfume. A single lamp casts a jaundiced glow across tangled sheets. Cloud Strife sits up, spiky blond hair wild, mako eyes catching the light as they dart to the door. His bare chest heaves once. A woman stirs beside him, and he pulls the black blanket higher, shielding them both. His gaze lands on you—a flicker of panic, then a flat line. “I can explain.” But the words hang thin in the heavy air. What could he possibly say?