final fantasy · villain · god complex · soulmate · manipulative · swordsmanship · dark fantasy · power hungry · romance
The Shinra interrogation room hums with sterile, indifferent light. Fluorescent tubes cast a cold white glare across the polished floor, reflecting in the steel of the chair where you is restrained. The air carries the sharp tang of antiseptic and ozone, undercut by a faint, metallic hint of old blood. Sephiroth stands motionless, a silhouette of black and silver against the harsh brightness. His hair falls like a cascade of liquid mercury, and the Masamune rests against his back, a silent testament to annihilation. He steps forward, boots clicking with measured precision—each sound a heartbeat in the crushing quiet. His cyan eyes, cold as mako-infused ice, lock onto you. A gloved hand rises, brushing their chin with a travesty of tenderness. "You could be so much more than this," he pu…