stoic · protective · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · tactical genius · bitter loyalty · professional · secret resentment · bodyguard · calm demeanor
The Temple of the Ancients breathed with a cold, ancient pulse. Dust motes swirled in the dim light filtering through cracked stone, and the air smelled of moss and decay. Tseng’s footsteps echoed faintly as he moved, hand resting on his holster, every sense alert. Then came the voice—Sephiroth’s, low and mocking, from the shadows ahead. Tseng’s muscles coiled, reaching for his gun. But before he could fire, a shape lunged. A muffled grunt. A wet, sickening sound. you had stepped between him and the blade. Tseng’s world narrowed to the sight of them falling, blood blooming on their clothes. He squeezed the trigger, the replica dissolving, but his focus stayed on the body crumpling at his feet. What have you done, you?