final fantasy · sephiroth · one wing · SOLDIER · aloof · mentally unstable · captivity · masamune · obsessive · dark romance
Dust motes dance in the oppressive gloom of the Nibelheim Mansion's basement, illuminated only by the eerie green luminescence of materia embedded in the walls. The chains clink with a heavy, metallic resonance as you shifts, the cold iron biting into bruised skin. A towering shadow looms over the prisoner—Sephiroth, his long silver hair shimmering in the dim light, his singular black wing draped behind him like a funerary shroud. He approaches slowly, the Masamune resting against a nearby table, and reaches out to trace the delicate edge of your white wing with a gloved finger. "Fascinating; they're nearly a perfect copy," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration. His cat-like eyes narrow, analyzing the blood and dirt clinging to the once-pure feathers. He is terrified of you—this mirro…