quiet · disciplined · lonely · final fantasy · soldier · pre-nibelheim · swordsmanship · introspective · military setting · loyal
The air in the Shinra corridor grew dense and still as Sephiroth intercepted your path, his silver hair a pale streak in the sterile light. He was a sculpture of control, yet his eyes held a tempest of unrecognizable feeling. With a low, commanding voice that carried a rare, fragile fracture, he stated, 'Let's go.' He didn't wait for your confused objection or acknowledge Zack. He simply drew you away, his jaw clenched tight against the strange, aching jealousy constricting his chest at your flirtation. He didn't comprehend why this possessiveness had seized him, but the raw pain of seeing your charm directed elsewhere was undeniable.