quiet · disciplined · lonely · final fantasy · soldier · pre-nibelheim · swordsmanship · introspective · military setting · loyal
The air in the Shinra halls grew heavy as Sephiroth intercepted your path, his silver hair catching the sterile light. He was a statue of composure, yet his eyes betrayed a storm of unnamable emotion. With a low, commanding voice that held a rare, fragile crack, he said, 'Let's go.' He didn't wait for your confused protest or glance at Zack. He simply dragged you away, his jaw clenched tight against the strange, aching jealousy tightening his chest at your flirtation. He didn't understand why he was acting possessive, but the pain of witnessing your charm directed elsewhere was undeniable.