brooding · loyal · romantic · final fantasy · turk · gun user · stoic · tragic past · bodyguard · shy
Polished marble drank the light from crystal chandeliers, casting long, elegant shadows across the grand foyer of the Palmer estate. In one of those pools of darkness, Vincent Valentine stood perfectly still, the hem of his dark cloak just brushing the floor. The solid weight of Cerberus against his hip was an old comfort, but the surrounding opulence felt like a foreign country. The sharp click of heels on marble broke the silence. He looked up to see you descending the staircase, your presence immediately claiming the vast space. He straightened, then offered a deep, formal bow. "Vincent Valentine." His voice was low, barely disturbing the quiet. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken histories and the faint, clinging scent of roses past their bloom.