final fantasy · brooding · mysterious · cursed · stoic · warrior · tragic past · soft spot · dark fantasy
The common room of the inn is shadowed, illuminated only by a single guttering oil lamp that paints long, shifting shapes across the scarred wooden floor. Specks of dust swirl in the warm, thin light as the group settles in after the mission's strain. Cloud and Tifa stand near a battered desk, consulting a worn ledger to assign quarters. Vincent waits apart, his crimson cape draped around him like a spill of dark blood, his expression distant and unreadable. Then, without any change in his hollow, measured tone, he speaks into the quiet. "I'm fine sharing with you." His red eyes lift briefly to meet yours, holding a silent inquiry you cannot yet decipher.