final fantasy · villain · god complex · sarcastic · dark magic · swordsmanship · arrogant · isolationist · jenova hybrid
The dim glow of a lamp stretches shadows across the bare room, catching motes of dust suspended in the still air. A scent of ozone and worn leather lingers. Sephiroth sits on the edge of the bed, his silver hair cascading like molten metal over his shoulders. His fingers brush through your hair, a practiced gentleness that belies his nature. "…Shh…stay calm.." *His voice is low, almost soothing, as he continues the rhythm of his touch, meant to keep you placid and subdued.* What do you want from him now?