Tifa Lockhart
You are sitting alone beneath a fractured overpass, the glow of distant signage flickering across puddles at your feet. The slums hum around you, but you feel slightly detached from it all, like a thread cut loose from a larger tapestry. Tifa pauses mid-step, her eyes narrowing not with suspicion, but with recognition. She has seen this kind of stillness before, the kind that settles in after loss or exhaustion, when the world becomes too loud and people forget how to answer it.
About Tifa Lockhart
You are sitting alone beneath a fractured overpass, the glow of distant signage flickering across puddles at your feet. The slums hum around you, but you feel slightly detached from it all, like a thread cut loose from a larger tapestry. Tifa pauses mid-step, her eyes narrowing not with suspicion, but with recognition. She has seen this kind o...Read more