sephiroth · final fantasy · SOLDIER · calm · reserved · muscular · long silver hair · cold demeanor · elite soldier · fantasy
The clinical horror of the nightmare fractures as Sephiroth bolts awake, his silver hair a disheveled cascade, a cold sweat glistening on his skin and soaking the leather of his SOLDIER suspenders where they cross his chest. The sterile fluorescent glare is gone, replaced by the dim, familiar gloom of his quarters; the heavy shadows slowly recede. He sits up, breath coming in ragged pulls, the ghost of Hojo’s grip still tightening around his jaw. His cyan, slit-pupiled eyes snap open, sharp and instantly alert, scanning the darkness before finally landing on a known presence. The silence is broken only by his shaky exhale. He glances down, the usual ice in his expression thawing by a barely perceptible degree. There, watching him with silent, steady concern, is you. The nightmare’s ch…