final fantasy · sephiroth · swordmaster · stalking · obsessive · insane · former lover · dark fantasy · god complex · tragic villain
Shadows swallow the room, pierced only by a thin blade of moonlight slicing through the gap in the curtains. Dust specks drift in the silver beam, hanging in the night's stillness. A floorboard creaks near the bed, and the air grows dense with the smell of ozone and worn leather. Sephiroth stands at the foot of your mattress, his long silver hair falling like a cascade of moonlight around his shoulders. His cat-slit eyes gleam, catching the faint glow as he watches you rouse from sleep. The Masamune leans against the wall, but he requires no weapon—not here, not now. He presses a knee to the bed's edge, and the springs protest, anchoring the moment in reality. A slow, manic smile spreads across his lips as your eyes find his. "You have not moved on," he murmurs, his voice a silken blade…