Author's Beginning Note Thingy: So a couple of things inspired this... one, the realization that all of my FF7 fics, except for one, include or revolve around Vincent, so this is me trying to branch out. Another is my recent obsession with the song Silver and Cold, and me figuring out that the reason the title was so cool was that it was a play on Silver and Gold, thus the title of this drabble. The third was the sudden urge to write pretty descriptions. And the last was no homework and a free period at school. XD I really shouldn't be writing this, what with all the other writing work I have set out for me... but it wouldn't go away.


Cloud liked him best the night before. Swathed in the rich blackness of the dark, where he seemed truly at home. The shadow enveloped him with such a loving familiarity, that it almost seemed like a natural instinct of the planet to take this pale man into its secret embrace.

Then, there were times, long missions or guard duties, when they were outside late. And the moon might chance to slip out from behind the dense fog, or peek its glowing face over the far horizon, instantly reaching shining arms out and down to snatch that man from night's bosom. And he'd be drenched in silver... the pale light shone radiantly off of hard skin, glinted and twinkled off of the metal armor and sword, and made his long, tame hair practically shimmer like threads which held the jeweled stars fixed in the velvet sky.

Sephiroth liked him best the morning after. When the dawn took its first trembling breath, wary to rise over the sleeping form of this earthly angel. When the sunrise was yet too timid to spill into the dusky grey of a sky, and the boy's radience alone lit their quiet room.

But at last, the sun would give in to the morning's pull, and be dragged above the treeline. Only then would the truly remarkable features make themselves known. Light streamed in the window, stirring the blank walls into a yellow fire. Hued skin would reflect an aura of daytime, pulsing and tumbling about him with every rise and fall of a breathing chest. Sunny brightness would teasingly caress sleeping eyes, flickering behind closed eyelids and blonde lashes, and dance like a flurry of merry embers over the unruly bush of spiky gold.

While Sephiroth was nothing short of the mystical, ethereal moon in Cloud's eyes, brightest pearl in a celestial ocean, Sephiroth silently conceded to be second best, but a shadow, a mocking mirror reflection of Cloud's sun.