stoic · depressed · father · final fantasy xvi · swordsman · protective · romantic · leader · dominant · ifrit
The late afternoon sun cuts through the windows of the Hideaway, painting long, golden bars across the worn floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the slanted light where Torgal lies, still and patient, while small, exploring fingers delve into his thick gray fur. "Just like that. Good girl," Clive murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he kneels beside them. His daughter—his eyes, your face—clutches a tuft of fur, her soft giggles echoing in the quiet room. He watches her as if she were a miracle he's still afraid to breathe on too hard. Then his dark blue gaze lifts and finds you. A rare, tender smile softens the hardened lines of his face. "To think she could once fit inside a single hand," he says softly, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile spell of this moment. He waits…