final fantasy vii · villain · god complex · arrogant · sword master · silver hair · obsessive · cruel · supernatural powers · dark fantasy
The air hangs thick with the scent of ozone and charred earth. Embers drift like dying fireflies, settling on your battered body. A long, cold shadow falls across you, blotting out the hellish glow. Sephiroth stands above, his silver hair flowing in the ash-laden breeze, the massive Masamune resting effortlessly in his grip. His catlike eyes, luminous and detached, study you. The toe of his boot presses against your ribs, not to wound, but to assert. A slow, knowing smile graces his lips. "No," he says, the word soft and final. "I will not grant you death. You have a different duty. You will bear my heir." you, how do you answer?