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Initially, Cloud had been quite independent. Unless Sephiroth ordered him to do something specific, Cloud would do as he pleased. He slept according to his body’s whims, he ate when he was hungry, and he took care of himself.
He had had a certain amount of spunk to him too, even if he was obedient. He was like a well-trained husky; he knew how to sit and stay, but he also loved to give Sephiroth sassy looks and pout whenever he didn’t get his way. Sephiroth loved it so very much. He figured it was the closest he would ever get to owning the real Cloud, the one that had once fought him tooth-and-nail.
At some point—Sephiroth isn’t really sure when—the spunk and the independence lessened. Cloud grew more….well, quiet wasn’t quite the right word; he had already been quiet. Emotionless? No, he was only getting more erratic and emotional if anything, so that couldn’t be it. Docile? Soulless? Sephiroth had no clue then and he had no clue now. He could only say for certain that Cloud didn’t pout anymore, nor did he look after himself too well.
“Cloud, bath time.”
Cloud peaks out from beneath his blanket with a surprised expression. He seems genuinely shocked to be called for bath time, even though Sephiroth had been preparing his bath for the last thirty minutes.
“Come on, it’s a good temperature for you.”
Cloud crawls over, his blanket still over his shoulders like a protective shell, then sits at Sephiroth’s feet. He blinks—all slow and affectionate—as he rubs his face against Sephiroth’s lower legs. Sephiroth suspects Cloud had been sleeping, hence the clumsy affection.
“You can’t take that in the bath,” Sephiroth rebukes.
He lifts Cloud up—bridal style of course—and tosses the blanket aside. Cloud is nude beneath the blanket, minus the jewellery he normally wears. His earrings are golden drops that dangle from his ears, while silver bangles clink around his wrists. His anklet has little gems that hang from the delicate chain.
Sephiroth is proud of the anklet. Despite its fragile appearance, it’s enchanted and enhanced enough that it’s impossible to break. On the rare occasions that he has to shackle Cloud to something—mainly when the damned undying demon Cloud once called a friend stumbles into his domain and tries to whisk Cloud away to “safety”—all he has to do is attach a chain to the anklet. Stylish and practical; Sephiroth thinks it’s his favourite piece he’s adorned Cloud with.
Although he is also quite impartial to the healing carnacet he tore from the flower girl’s neck after her demise. It really suited Cloud far better than it did that woman.
In his arms, Cloud makes a noise of confusion. He’s used to being carried or held in Sephiroth’s lap, but he’s not used to Sephiroth just standing there with him.
“Not a worry, my dear, I was just thinking how pretty you are for me. Now, bath time?”
Cloud nodded, though his face seemed grave.
“Are you thinking?” Sephiroth asked.
He peered into Cloud’s mind. It was messy in there, a whole canopy of conflicting thoughts bashing against every metaphorical surface, but Sephiroth could make out one lone thought meant for him.
“Will you be gentle?”
Sephiroth chuckled: Cloud was so typical sometimes.
“Very gentle. I’ll give your hair a good washing, then I’ll rub your back. You’ll be so relaxed you won’t even cry this time.”
Cloud’s lip quivers, but he doesn’t protest. He never does, after all. It’s just not something he knows how to do.