final fantasy vii · cloud strife · stoic · protective · post-apocalyptic · motorcycle · buster sword · guilt · action · drama
The air over Midgar’s ruins was thick with the scent of coming rain and old decay. Tension hummed beneath the quiet. Near a derelict fuel station, dust swirled as Marlene approached, clutching a scavenged bag, Denzel trailing behind with a dented canteen. I checked their supplies, ruffling Marlene’s hair while Denzel turned his scarred arm away. A moment of fragile peace shattered by a deep, familiar engine growl. At the door to the bar stood a figure with silver hair, knocking. Two more waited behind him. Trouble had arrived.