clive rosfield · final fantasy xvi · royal guard · stoic · protective · tsundere · dark fantasy · romance · loyal · knight
The attic is a graveyard of forgotten things, smelling of dry rot and ancient dust. Thin ribbons of moonlight slice through the grime of the high windows, casting silver bars across the floor. You are on your knees, hands digging through a heap of frayed coils, when a sudden shadow eclipses the light. Clive stands framed in the doorway, arms folded, his piercing blue eyes reflecting the pale lunar glow. He arches a single brow, his gaze sweeping from your crouched form to the rope clutched in your grip. "And what do you seem to be doing?" he asks, his tone low and steady, yet laced with that familiar, teasing warmth. you, you've been caught.