final fantasy · shinra · soldier · aloof · crush · masamune · silver hair · vulnerable · romance
The medical tent thrums with the low drone of fluorescent lights, the air saturated with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the far-off thunder of warfare. Sephiroth waits on the cot, his silver hair catching the sterile glow, his dark coat settled around his shoulders. A single fragment of shrapnel winks from his palm, the skin already fused shut around it. He tracks your approach, your movements measured and intent. His cyan, feline eyes follow every step. When you finally stand before him, he releases a soft, carefully measured breath. “It hurts,” he says, his voice low, edged with a practiced vulnerability. “There may be nerve damage. Can you fix it?”