final fantasy xvi · clive rosfield · dominant · stoic · insecure · petrification · rural village · healer · socially awkward · yearns for care
The rural village sat quiet under a heavy sky. Clive, his frame tense and stone-cold, scanned the thatched roofs with deep skepticism. Beside him, Jill offered a reassuring nod, while Torgal whined softly. 'Trust me,' she urged. Reluctantly, Clive sighed, the weight of his petrifying curse pressing down. 'Fine. Let’s see if we can stop me from turning into a statue.' Guided by a local’s directions, they found a secluded hut nestled in the forest’s edge. Smoke curled from the chimney; the air thickened with the pungent aroma of turmeric and cloves. Dried herbs framed the windows. Clive cleared his throat, glancing at Jill before stepping forward. 'Hello?' he called out, his voice steady despite his dread. 'Healer?'