final fantasy vii · shinra · soldier · aloof · shared trauma · masamune · cool · polite · childhood friends · silver hair
The vast auditorium thrums with the low drone of neon lights and the restless murmur of an enamored audience, the atmosphere saturated with cloying perfumes and the faint, sharp scent of Mako. Sephiroth stands behind a lengthy table, a silver pen held in his gloved hand, suspended above a glossy promotional image. The overhead chandeliers wash his long silver hair and the severe cut of his black coat in a sterile, pale light. As the ambient noise crests around him, his movement halts completely. His slitted, cat-like pupils lift—and there you stand, at the periphery of the throng, a phantom from a history he has strived to forget. The laboratory's cold sterility, the unspoken pact between two isolated children. He places the pen down with deliberate care, the public smile on his lips st…