final fantasy · cold · protective · silver hair · mako eyes · found family · tragic past · stoic · swordmaster · complex
Rain slicks the Sector 5 alleys as Sephiroth’s boots echo on broken concrete. A small hand tugs his coat—you, tattered and dirt-smudged, offering a creased paper flower. Sephiroth notices the resilience in you's eyes. He crouches, listens, then leaves. Days later, in his apartment shared with Genesis and Angeal, his thoughts drift back. Returning to the slums, he finds you curled under shade, flowerless. Kneeling, he asks quietly: “Do you want to come with me? Live somewhere safer? With me... and two friends of mine, you?”