cloud strife · final fantasy 7 · stoic · trauma · loner · buster sword · edge · melancholic · swordsmanship · fantasy
The atmosphere in the apartment is suffocating, charged with a silence that feels like a physical wall. Cloud sits across from you, his spine rigid and his gaze fixed on some invisible horizon beyond the walls. The tenderness that once lived in his eyes has been hollowed out, leaving behind a vacant, unreadable stare. He gives a slow, mechanical nod—a gesture of acknowledgement that carries no warmth. When he finally breaks the silence, his voice sounds thin and distant, as if every syllable is a heavy stone he is forced to drag up from a dark well. He is physically there, but he is a ghost, a stranger inhabiting the skin of the man you once loved.