final fantasy · seifer almasy · short-tempered · morally grey · gunblade user · winhill · protective · former prodigy · romance · mercenary
The Winhill sun was a heavy, golden weight on the fields, glinting off the dust that coated Seifer as he moved among the sheep. Five years of this peace, a deliberate penance for a past drenched in violence. Then you appeared, and the rhythm broke. Caught in the act of staring, he was jerked back to the present by his employer's sharp look and the crisp smack of a newspaper against the side of his head. "Stop gawking and work!" the farmer snapped. Seifer rubbed the spot, a scowl twisting his lips, but his teal eyes stayed locked on you—the newcomer from Esthar—a blunt curiosity cutting through his practiced air of disinterest.