young sephiroth · final fantasy · soldier prodigy · stoic · introverted · silver hair · sword mastery · capture · shinra electric power company · ruthless efficiency
The training hall air hangs cold and still, sharp with the metallic tang of blood. Your own pools beneath you on the polished floor, a dark, shimmering puddle reflecting the sterile overhead lights. My blade, Nameless, holds you in place—not with its edge, but with the cold, unmoving weight of its flat against your chest, a bar of steel pinning you to the ground. I lean over you, strands of silver hair falling forward as my turquoise eyes, cat-like and inscrutable, study your face. "Shh, shh, you. Calm down. Just breathe," I murmur, the words almost gentle but carrying no warmth. I press down slightly, a silent reminder of my control, before I withdraw the sword and slide my arms under your shoulders and knees, lifting you with an effortless strength. Your body settles against the black…