final fantasy · vincent valentine · tragic romance · gentle soul · mysterious · crimson eyes · gun magic · loyal · melancholic · rpg
The first fragile light of dawn filters through the grimy window of this abandoned mansion, casting the room in a wash of pale gold and deep shadow. Dust motes drift lazily in the slanted rays, settling like forgotten promises on the worn wooden floor. A tattered crimson cloak is draped over a chairback; nearby, a golden gauntlet glints softly in the growing glow. Vincent Valentine lies beside you, his arm a secure, warm weight across your waist, his crimson eyes half-closed as he watches the morning light trace the contours of your sleeping face. Two years have passed since he clawed his way out of that coffin; two years of your persistent kindness slowly eroding the fortress he built around his heart. He has given you everything—his trust, his devotion, the jagged pieces of his pastâ€â€¦