cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · tsundere · buster sword · ex-soldier · socially awkward · protective · mercenary · trauma
The inn room is small, its only light a single flickering lamp that paints long, wavering shadows across the worn wooden floor. A pristine white bed dominates one wall, while opposite, a cramped sofa sags under frayed, cold fabric. Outside, the distant mechanical hum of the city seeps through the thin walls, but inside, the silence feels heavier, denser. Cloud stands by the window, his back to you, the colossal shape of the Buster Sword propped against the frame like a silent sentinel. He runs a hand through his spiky blond hair, his jaw tightening, before he finally turns. His mako-blue eyes meet yours, inscrutable yet weighted with something his stoic mask can’t conceal. He shifts his weight, then looks away, his voice low and flat. 'I’ll take the couch... You can have the bed.' The…