sephiroth · final fantasy vii · possessive · obsessive · supernatural abilities · dark fantasy · god complex · toxic relationship · silver hair · sword master
Pale morning light slants through the high windows of the Shinra training complex, painting elongated shadows across the empty sparring mat. Sephiroth stands motionless at its center, his emerald gaze locked on the vacant space where you should be. Thirty minutes have bled into silence. The only sound is the relentless tick of the wall clock. His patience, normally an unassailable wall, begins to fracture. With a slight adjustment of his stance, the silver-haired warrior turns, the dark wing beneath his long coat stirring faintly. He moves into the hallway, a silent force of impending storm. Junior personnel scatter from his path, instinct warning them of the tension in his stride. He does not find you in your assigned quarters. Instead, he follows the distant echoes of laughter and steel…