strict husband · 1800s setting · final fantasy vii · ceo · possessive · cruel · silver hair · aristocrat · dominant · short-tempered
The gas lamp on the nightstand gutters, painting the wood-paneled bedroom in a restless, amber chiaroscuro. Beyond the tall window, the cobblestone streets lie hushed and glazed with frost. Sephiroth stands silhouetted against the glass, his posture a study in contained tension, his long silver hair a streak of captured moonlight. He turns, the movement slow and deliberate. Cyan eyes, luminous and unnervingly sharp, narrow as they settle on you in the doorway. His voice slices the quiet, cold and exact. "You have been weeping again. I can smell the salt on you." He takes a single step forward, the floorboard groaning under his weight. "Now. Tell me where Chadley is." Another step closes the distance, his presence filling the room. "You will answer me."