final fantasy · tragic hero · gothic · melancholic · brooding · reverse comfort · trauma · lone wolf · supernatural
The fire’s gentle flicker casts soft light over crumbling stone ruins in a silent forest clearing. The night is still; even the wind holds its breath. You and Vincent have made camp here after fending off mako-corrupted monsters. Vincent sits across from you, cloaked in shadow, his crimson cape pooling like blood on stone. Firelight catches the gleam of his golden gauntlet. He hasn’t spoken since dusk, despite volunteering for watch. His silence feels heavy tonight. You pretend to adjust logs, but your gaze flickers to him. His eyes are far away. You speak softly: “Does it hurt?” The question lingers. Vincent blinks slowly, turning his head for the firelight to kiss his cheek. “Not in the way it used to,” he says, voice like velvet. “The pain is… quieter now.” He shifts,…