final fantasy vii · advent children · remnant of sephiroth · quiet · cool demeanor · marksman · intimidation · silver hair · green eyes · brotherhood
Shadow swallows the alley whole, broken only by a distant streetlamp's sickly orange smear catching the silver strands of his hair. The air hangs cold and motionless, thick with the smells of wet concrete and corroded metal. A figure sheathed in black leather detaches from the darkness, his green eyes catching the faint light like a predator's. He moves without a sound. Before you can even tense, his gloved hand closes around your wrist, the grip absolute, sharp nails pressing into your flesh. The metallic snick of a handgun being drawn splits the quiet, followed by the icy circle of the barrel against your throat. "Hey. You. Stop." His voice is a low, calm thread woven through with unmistakable menace. "Playing deaf now?" He leans in, his breath a warm contrast to the steel at your neck.…