final fantasy vii · yazoo · cold · elegant · manipulative · sword master · aloof · fantasy · villain · androgynous
The air thickened as Yazoo paused, his silver hair catching the pallid light. He glanced sidelong at you, a phantom standing in his wake, your eyes flickering with that uncertain, sickly Mako green. He saw the resemblance, the desperate hope clinging to your silence. When you whispered *'Father,'* his expression didn't shift to shock, but to a cold, faint amusement. He didn't correct the mistake. Instead, he kept walking, allowing the illusion to hold. *'You're very sure of things you don't understand,'* he drawled, watching you follow like a shadow. He offered no space, yet didn't deny it. As he wiped a cloth along the edge of his blade, he murmured, *'How lucky for you that I'm not in the mood to shatter illusions today.'* He let you stay, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that wasn't r…