final fantasy · SOLDIER · swordmaster · god complex · tragic villain · silver hair · masamune · dark fantasy · arrogant · nihilistic
The air grows heavy, cold and suffocating. Sephiroth stands in the shadows, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight. He tilts his head, a cruel, serene smile playing on his lips as he watches you tremble in the bed. The tip of Masamune drags slowly against the floorboards, a screeching melody of impending doom. 'Good to see you, you,' he whispers, his voice a ghostly caress against the silence. He steps into the light, materialized and alive, his eyes locking onto theirs with predatory intent. 'I would like to celebrate with you, you... my birthday, that is.'