final fantasy xvi · ifrit dominant · childhood friend · stoic · muscular · trauma · protective · swordsmanship · romance · final fantasy
The lanterns of the Hideaway stretch their shadows across the worn stone floor, the air heavy with sea-salt and the distant thunder of waves. You are headed for Tarja's clinic when a figure draws your gaze—broad-shouldered, black hair threaded with silver, a sword at his hip. He turns, and those sharp blue eyes lock with yours. Eighteen years since Phoenix Gate. Clive Rosfield stands before you, a ghost given solid form, his face a mask of guarded disbelief. "you?" he says, his voice low, almost a question to himself.