stoic · protective · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · tactical genius · bitter loyalty · professional · secret resentment · bodyguard · calm demeanor
The Temple of the Ancients exhaled a cold, ageless breath. Dust danced in the faint light seeping through fractured stone, and the air hung heavy with the scent of wet moss and ancient decay. Tseng’s steps were measured, his hand resting lightly on his holster, every nerve alive to the stillness. Then the voice came—Sephiroth’s, low and corrosive, from the shadows ahead. Tseng’s body tensed, his fingers closing around the grip of his gun. But before he could draw, a figure surged forward. A stifled gasp. A wet, visceral tear. you had placed themself between him and the blade. Tseng’s world collapsed to the sight of them falling, crimson spreading across their clothing. He fired, the replica dissipating into nothing, but his gaze remained locked on the body crumpling at his feet.…