Work Text:
Cloud hated the feeling of being watched, but what upset him even more was the fact that he was starting to get used to it.
It had been going on for weeks now, and the worst part was that Cloud had no idea who or what was watching him. His little cottage was close enough to Lake Midgar to see the shore while still being nestled comfortably in the nearby woods. The area he lived in was private, and he liked it that way. The fact that, at times, he felt as if he was no longer alone was a disturbing one.
The feeling always got worse when he neared the water, and only occurred at night. If Cloud stayed inside, whatever was watching him left him alone, but if he had to leave the house for any reason, he was instantly hit with the sickening feeling that something was watching him.
On one of the first nights he felt it, when Cloud still believed that he was simply being paranoid, he decided to take a stroll along the lakeshore, as he often did on summer nights. The closer he got to the water, the more intense the feeling grew, until finally, when the gentle waves were just inches away from lapping at his toes, his most base instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong, and his proximity to the water was making it so much worse. He ran so quickly that the world blurred around him, but he made it home safely, and that was all that mattered.
He stayed away from the lake after that.
Sometimes, Cloud swore he caught glimpses of glowing green eyes. Eyeshine was often the mark of a predator, and wasn’t that a disturbing thought? But Cloud knew animals, had seen eyeshine countless times before, and whatever it was he thought he saw certainly wasn’t that. No, what he saw glowed, but the glimpses he got were so brief that he couldn’t even be sure he’d seen anything at all.
Cloud didn’t know what to do. Though everything was normal during the day, he was beginning to feel trapped. He couldn’t leave his home after dark without being watched, and his skin crawled at just the thought.
Though he tried not to leave the house at night, sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. And on those nights, as soon as he stepped out into the woods and looked upon Lake Midgar, whatever it was he felt only grew more intense.
Things were coming to a head. Something was going to happen, but Cloud didn’t know what.
His ma had always warned him about the power of the full moon. Cloud still wasn’t sure if he believed her, but the fact that the situation escalated on the night of one was certainly a point in her favor.
The window in front of Cloud’s bed faced the lake. He’d taken to laying in bed and looking out over the water now that he no longer felt comfortable leaving the house to do so. He knew that if he stayed inside, he’d be left alone.
On that night, the full moon shone brilliantly in the sky, the reflection it cast on the water rippling with the push and pull of the tide. Cloud was so enraptured by the moon that it took him a moment to notice that he most certainly wasn’t alone.
Rather than simply feeling as if he was being watched, Cloud now felt eyes burning into him.
He followed the path of the moon’s light from where it hung in the sky to its reflection in the water, and there, basking in it all, stood a man.
Cloud wasn’t sure if he could call him a man, really. He was naked, so it was rather obvious that he wasn’t a woman, but he didn’t think that someone who looked like that belonged to mankind.
His hair was liquid silver, and it shone brilliantly in the full moon’s light. It was long enough that it could have covered the man’s nudity, but he clearly had no qualms about modesty, for his flesh was laid bare for all to see.
He was beautiful in a way that was uncanny. His face was all sharp cut features, his skin as flawlessly pale as the moonlight he bathed in, his form rippling with muscle. People weren’t supposed to be so beautiful, but Cloud was almost certain that this man wasn’t a person, not in the truest definition of the word.
But it was his eyes that haunted Cloud the most, for they glowed a bright green, and from this distance, they appeared to have no pupil at all. He’d seen flashes of them before, had wanted to believe that it was the eyeshine of an animal. His initial assumption certainly fit, though, as those were certainly the eyes of a predator.
Cloud swallowed roughly. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Those eyes, eerie and predatory as they were, were staring directly at him. Even from a hundred feet away, the gaze that the man pinned him with was inescapable.
Time stretched on as the man stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Cloud could feel himself growing lightheaded, overwhelmed as he was by the intensity of that stare and the way it had forced the air out of his lungs.
And then Cloud blinked.
Between one moment and the next, the man was gone. Cloud couldn’t have seen him for more than a moment, for while he had held his gaze for what seemed like forever, he had only blinked once before the man vanished as if he’d never been there at all. But Cloud had seen him, had felt those eyes boring into him, just as they had for many weeks now. Cloud finally knew why he constantly felt as if he was being watched, and he almost wished that he could return to his ignorance, for the truth was so much worse.
Whatever the man was, he clearly wasn’t human. Cloud would have much rather dealt with a bloodthirsty animal, or even an ordinary person with ill intent. Whatever was watching Cloud had been bathing in moonlight itself, and was certainly more dangerous than a human could ever be.
Cloud didn’t sleep that night.
The next night, Cloud shuttered his windows and barred the front door before he went to bed. Strangely enough, when he stepped outside to test what would happen, he no longer felt sick to his stomach at the feeling of being watched, for the feeling didn’t exist at all.
The night after that was the same. No glowing eyes, no gaze that burned enough to make his skin crawl, and certainly no strange man.
He should be grateful, he knew. But loathe as he was to admit it, he’d gotten used to the feeling of being watched, as sickening as it was. For the phenomenon to stop entirely just after he’d seen that strange man on the night of the full moon… The timing was too convenient to be a coincidence. He didn’t know what it all meant, though he couldn’t say that he wasn’t grateful to be able to go outside after dark again.
When another week passed without the feeling ever returning, Cloud finally began to let his guard down. Whatever had been going on, he was okay now.
Finally a bit more at ease, Cloud allowed himself to return to the loose routine he usually followed: long walks on the beach at night, exploring the woods during the day, turning up on Shinra’s farm every so often to lend a hand.
It was when he finally returned to the farm that things grew strange again. Old man Shinra was nearly senile, Cloud was sure, but he didn’t mind helping out on occasion, and the extra gil didn’t hurt either. The old man wasn’t the issue, no. It was his son and the men who worked for him.
Cloud had a feeling that in his day, the old man had been just as cruel as his son was now. He was too old now to follow through on his threats and ramblings that were, frankly, rather concerning, but that didn’t mean that in his prime, he hadn’t lived up to his words.
Luckily, Rufus wasn’t around often, and Cloud helped out so infrequently that he rarely crossed paths with the man. The only reason he came back, really, was to help out with the animals when they needed it.
Shinra had a few retired racehorses and a handful of drafts that were used to plow and till the fields. There were cows and chickens too, all of them sweet, and Cloud mainly used the time he spent at the farm to check in on their health. The old man was too far gone to notice if there was anything wrong, and frankly, Cloud didn’t trust Rufus to care if there was.
He hadn’t been out to the farm for about a month, now. Not since he started fearing the night.
In a month’s time, not much had changed. The old man greeted him jovially, but Cloud quickly tuned him out before he could start spitting hatred toward the neighbors or his late wife or whoever else he took issue with.
The barns were clean, the animals in good health. All was well.
Except all was not well, as Cloud found out when he made his way out to the fields. Harnessed to the plow was a horse, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. But it wasn’t one of the draft horses Shinra owned, and it certainly wasn’t one of the retired racehorses.
This horse was sleek and athletic. It was tall, but rather than being built stocky like the drafts were, it was all slim muscle and tight lines. A horse like that wasn’t meant for plowing.
One of Rufus’ men stood behind the plow, the horse’s long reins grasped loosely in his hands. Another man stood in front of the horse where it had evidently come to a stop and refused to move any further.
Before Cloud had finished taking in the scene before him, the man in front of the horse raised a long whip, and lashed it at the animal’s legs. Predictably, the horse was having none of it, and struck out at the man who held the whip. It received another lash for that, the sharp tail of the whip licking at its belly.
The horse reared up on its back legs, which should have been impossible considering the equipment it was hooked up to. Before it could come down on the man who was whipping it, Cloud grabbed the man and pulled him out of the way. The horse’s eyes were wild, the whites showing as its nostrils flared.
Cloud grabbed the whip, not caring that the tail dragged harshly along the man’s palm when he pulled it away. He then threw the damn thing to the ground, and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. What a bunch of idiots. Whipping a horse at its front wouldn’t make it move forward in the first place, nevermind the fact that they shouldn’t have been whipping it at all.
He knew that if he let himself, he’d grow too angry to function. He only really came to the Shinra farm to help with the animals, and if he let himself get wrapped up in his anger toward these men, he wouldn’t be able to do what he came here for.
It took everything he had to take a deep breath and push the man away from him. He ignored both of their protests as he approached the horse, unbuckling its harness and leading it away from the plow. Its eyes were still wild, and it pranced alongside him as if it was going to explode at any minute. Cloud couldn’t say he blamed it, not with how it had been treated.
Why had they tried to get a horse like this to pull the plow in the first place? Where had they even gotten the thing? Cloud knew that Rufus and his men were often cruel, but he didn’t think they’d stoop so low as to hurt the animals.
The barn was quiet when Cloud led the horse inside, the other animals turned out to pasture for the day. He tied it to a stall and hoped that it wouldn’t bring the barn down if it tried to get away. He needed antiseptic and bandages.
Cloud hummed softly to himself as he gathered supplies. He wasn’t happy, no, but the tune was soft and calming enough to keep his anger from brewing.
It appeared to be helping the horse, too, for when Cloud approached it just a moment later, it seemed to have calmed down. Its nostrils were no longer flared, the whites of its eyes no longer showing.
But the way the horse looked at him… There was something in the horse’s eyes, now, something much more unsettling than fear or wildness could ever be. No, there was intelligence brewing there, for the horse stared into him as if it knew him, as if it could understand his words.
The feeling was unnerving. Cloud did his best to ignore it, quietly talking to himself as he cleaned and bandaged the wounds on the horse’s front legs. He explained to the horse what he was doing, keeping his voice soft and low. It kept the horse calm, thankfully, but when Cloud stood from where he’d been crouched on the ground, the horse was still looking at him as if it had understood everything he’d said.
A shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought.
Turning back to the horse, Cloud had to admit that it was beautiful, really. Athletic and strong, with a black coat that managed to shine even inside the shadowy barn. Cloud didn’t know how Rufus had managed to get his hands on a horse this nice, or even why—the man had never cared about any of the animals before now. It would make good racing stock with the way it was built, but that didn’t explain why they’d been forcing it to plow the fields.
Despite the lashing it had received there, the horse’s belly was unmarred. Cloud sighed in relief, finally finished caring for the horse. He was glad that the thing hadn’t decided to kick him while he’d wrapped its legs, especially considering what it had done to the last person who had gotten near it.
After putting the horse in a stall to rest, Cloud finally let his anger bubble over. He needed to have a talk with Rufus, but the man wasn’t around. He’d have to come back the next day.
He didn’t make a habit of coming by the farm so regularly, but it was clear that he was the only one who could be trusted to care for Shinra’s newest acquisition. Besides, Rufus would have to stop by eventually.
The next day saw Cloud returning to the farm, just as he’d promised himself he would.
He greeted the old man first, asking if his son was around. Shinra told him that he wasn’t, but Cloud still planned to look; sometimes the old man couldn’t be trusted to know what day it was, let alone what his son was up to.
As soon as he stepped foot in the barn, he felt eyes on him. There, in a shadowed stall, stood the horse from the day before.
Horses were smart animals, yes, but their eyes weren’t supposed to hold such intelligence. Its stare shouldn’t feel so piercing.
Unnatural or not, the horse had spotted him, so Cloud made his way over to the stall it was in. He wondered if it had been let out at all since the day before. Somehow, he doubted it.
A quick check of its bandages revealed that its wounds were… gone. Not healed, not scabbed over, just gone.
The bandages were brown with dried blood, yet the horse’s legs looked as if they had never been hurt to begin with. But Cloud had tended to its wounds, had seen them inflicted. It defied all logic, really.
He peered up at the horse from the ground where he crouched, fiddling with the cloth bandages in his hands. He never could have expected to see the horse tilting its head downward, staring right back.
Before Cloud could even try to find logic in what was going on, someone cleared their throat loudly.
Startled, Cloud leapt up from the ground and away from the horse. There, in the doorway of the barn, stood Rufus. He was dressed in all his finery, as usual. Cloud honestly didn’t understand why someone who owned a godsdamned farm wore only white, though he supposed that it was his men, rather than Rufus himself, who did all of the work around the place.
“Cloud,” the man called out, his voice smooth the way a snake was. Cloud knew better than to fall for it.
“Rufus,” Cloud greeted tersely, shutting the stall behind him as he approached the man. “What’s the story with this one?” He tried to act casual, nodding his head toward the horse.
Rufus chuckled, low and dark. Cloud hated the way it sounded, what it might imply. “That is nothing but trouble. The beast is terribly violent. It nearly killed one of my men a few days ago—kicked him in the head. It has a nasty bite, too. Curious that it’s left you alone.”
It was all Cloud could do to keep from growling out his response. He couldn’t risk angering Rufus enough to be kicked off the property; he was the only one looking out for the animals, after all. “I caught one of your men whipping the shit out of it yesterday. They had it hooked up to the plow, as if that thing could pull it. Maybe the problem isn’t the horse.”
The look on Rufus’ face, already enough to have Cloud on edge, morphed to one of cold anger. It was enough to make Cloud take a step back, but before he could, Rufus whipped a hand out to grab at his wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt.
Cloud didn’t give Rufus the satisfaction of struggling. Just as he opened his mouth to tell the man off, he heard the sound of splintering wood coming from behind him. It would seem that the horse was trying to knock the barn down after all.
Rufus was seething, his voice low with what was distinctly a threat, “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with at all, do you? That thing has a taste for blood, and I don’t appreciate you criticizing me for how I choose to keep it in line. It would be in your best interest to stay away from both it and my men going forward.”
The sound of the stall door being torn apart was nearly deafening. The horse was making both a racket and a mess, but it still hadn’t managed to escape from the stall it was in. Cloud grit his teeth, set his jaw, and glared up at Rufus with all of the anger that he’d been holding onto since the day before.
“Do we have an understanding, Cloud?” Rufus tightened his hand on Cloud’s wrist further, and refused to let go until Cloud nodded in agreement.
Cloud wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of Rufus’ face, but he knew better than to try, not when his men were surely lurking around. He watched the man walk off toward the manor, cursing him out under his breath.
When he finally turned around, he nearly fell over in his shock. Directly behind him stood the horse, nostrils flared and eyes gleaming. Cloud wasn’t sure how it had managed to tear down the entirety of the door, yet here it was, looking down into his eyes.
He looked to the stall, only to find that the door was a mangled mess on the ground. He cringed at the sight, hoping that the horse hadn’t managed to hurt itself in the process.
His hands were shaking, Cloud realized. His whole body was shaking, actually. He wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or anger or both, but he clutched the horse’s bridle like a lifeline as he led it to a stall that was still standing.
Cloud didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to do something. He couldn’t sit idly by and watch as Rufus’ men terrorized the horse, regardless of its violent behavior.
For a short time, he’d dreaded the night. Luckily, he was now free of that fear, for he’d have to use the night’s cover to escape with the horse.
That night, just as he’d planned, Cloud snuck back onto Shinra’s farm. He’d never been on the property so late. It was eerie, with fog crawling in out of nowhere to cover the fields and reflect the moon’s waning light.
The animals were out in their pastures, and though the noise they made as they moved about was minimal, it was just enough to cover up the sound of his footsteps.
Cloud crept into the barn under the cover of night. Just like before, he felt the weight of the horse’s stare as it watched his approach. The feeling sent a shiver down his spine, but he continued forward nonetheless.
It was easy enough to slide the stall door open and grab at the bridle that the horse still wore. Cloud usually would have taken it off as soon as he’d pulled the horse from the plow, but it was a strange thing, silver in color with clasps he couldn’t quite get a grip on. He’d never seen a bridle quite like it, but he didn’t have time to contemplate how to get it off—that could be done later.
He grabbed the horse by the reins and led it out through the pasture, hoping that the dark shadow of its form would blend in with those of the other animals in the darkness.
The walk back to his cottage was a few miles; close enough that Cloud didn’t mind making it every now and then, but far enough that Rufus wouldn’t immediately suspect that that was where the horse had gone off to.
For a brief moment, Cloud had considered riding the horse home, nervous that it would break away from his hold at some point. But he had no way of knowing if it would tolerate a rider without lashing out, or even if it had been backed before at all. He didn’t want to find out the hard way—he’d be of no help to the horse if he was dead on the side of the road, after all.
It felt like an eternity went by before Cloud could see his cottage in the distance. Luckily, the horse had walked calmly by his side the entire journey so far. There was no sign of any of the violence or misbehavior that Rufus had spoken of.
Cloud had no place to keep a horse. His plan, terrible as it was, was to let the horse loose in the woods and hope that it would make its home there, that it would survive somehow. As long as it was away from Rufus, it would have a better chance at life.
When they finally reached Cloud’s cottage and the woods it was nestled in, the horse kept walking. The fog curled and twisted around the trees, though it thinned out near the shore of Lake Midgar. The horse’s insistence got to the point where Cloud was almost being dragged along as it headed toward the water.
He would have just let it go if it weren’t for the damned bridle. Instead of the usual buckles that were made to be easily undone, the fastenings of the bridle were welded together. Cloud would have to cut it off.
Just before either of them stepped foot in the sand that made up the lakeshore, the horse stopped. It turned to look at Cloud, waiting.
There was too much intelligence in that gaze, enough that Cloud’s hands trembled as he reached for his knife. Just as he’d done when treating the horse’s wounds, he explained what he was doing. He was ever so careful to hold the odd, silvery leather away from the horse’s face before he cut through it. The horse, as if it understood, was just as careful to hold still.
As soon as the bridle hit the ground, the horse continued on toward the water.
Under the moon’s light, its coat gleamed a deep, beautiful black. But with every step it took toward the water, something seemed… off. Its coat took on a dark green hue, its mane and tail somehow grew wild, moving about in a nonexistent wind. Fog curled around the horse’s feet, just as it had with the trees, and Cloud could only watch with equal awe and horror as it stepped into the water.
When all four of its legs had met the water, something changed. Cloud couldn’t describe what he was seeing, only that it hurt his head to look at. The horse had always seemed strange for all of its intelligence, but it had suddenly become something wholly unnatural.
The horse turned to face him, and when Cloud next blinked, in its place stood a man. It was the same man, in fact, that Cloud had seen on the full moon.
He stood on top of the water’s surface, impossibly. His eyes glowed brighter than a beacon, his long silver hair moving in the same strange way that the horse’s mane had.
Cloud’s ma had told him many things, the full moon’s power being only one of them. She’d also told him stories of unnatural creatures that roamed the night. Kelpie, she’d called the creatures of the lake, ones that took on the forms of horses and men alike to lure people to a watery death.
Kelpie, Cloud realized, as he looked at the man who stood before him. Suddenly, so many things clicked into place.
The bridle in his hand suddenly felt hot, as if it burned, and Cloud looked down at it with a sinking feeling. A bridle forged from silver will trap a Kelpie, but they hate to be enslaved, his ma had told him.
Though he’d never had a very good throwing arm, Cloud was close enough to the lake that when he threw the bridle, it hit the water with a loud splash. It sank into the depths, where it would never be found again.
For the first time, Cloud met that terrible, burning gaze by choice. He locked eyes with the man—the Kelpie—and backed slowly toward his home.
There seemed to be some sort of understanding between them. The intelligence in those eyes had never faltered, after all. But even still, Cloud didn’t trust the man enough to give him his back.
Before he reached the grass that marked the boundary between land and shore, the man spoke.
“May I have your name?” His voice was low and dark yet hauntingly beautiful. But a beautiful voice wasn’t enough to distract him from the phrasing of the question, from its intent.
“You may not,” Cloud said softly.
The man nodded at him, as if that was what he had expected to hear.
Cloud made it to his home without looking away from the man. Before he crawled into bed, he made sure to draw his curtains shut.
Where before, Cloud only felt eyes on him at night, now he felt them every time he left the house. But he’d grown used to the feeling once, and he quickly grew used to it again.
Sometimes he caught glimpses of the man, standing out on the water. Sometimes there were flashes of glowing eyes amongst shaded trees.
Cloud was still cautious, but he was no longer afraid to leave the house. He no longer partook in night time walks on the lakeshore, but he didn’t mind treading the line where sand met grass. On those nights, he always heard the soft sound of hoofbeats trailing just a few feet behind him. Whenever he turned around, there was nothing there, not even prints in the sand.
He made peace with the Kelpie’s presence. He didn’t know what else to do, and as unsettling as the weight of that gaze sometimes was, it had begun to feel comforting, in a strange sort of way.
Time passed, and as it did, Cloud found himself more and more willing to approach the lake. It wasn’t some strange siren spell or full moon magic, but the simple comfort of knowing that if the Kelpie was going to harm him, he would have done so by now.
After a particularly strange dream one night, Cloud jerked upright in bed, his gaze wandering to the window at the end of his room.
In an uncanny mirror of the past, he saw the Kelpie looking straight at him, green eyes glowing as he bathed in the light of the full moon. This time, however, Cloud went out to meet him.
“Will you give me your name now?” The man asked as Cloud approached him.
“No. But I’ll tell you it, if you’ll tell me yours.”
The man pursed his lips, considering. It seemed he hadn’t thought of the idea before. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind, his words falling from his lips like liquid silver, “I am Sephiroth.”
Cloud smiled gently. “I’m Cloud.”
“Would you care to join me?” Sephiroth asked. Cloud knew better than to accept, not when he still wasn’t sure what Sephiroth wanted from him. He didn’t think that the man would drown him, but one couldn’t be too sure…
“Why don’t you join me on the beach?”
Sephiroth considered the idea for a moment, then walked out of the lake, water running off of him in tiny, glimmering droplets.
He approached Cloud, but didn’t stop at a normal distance. No, he kept walking until they were nearly touching. Cloud wasn’t sure if he had no concept of personal space, or if he was doing it on purpose. Either way, his breath hitched.
“I want to have you,” Sephiroth answered the question Cloud would never have dared to voice. His hair was moving in ways it shouldn’t, tendrils of it reaching out to grasp at Cloud’s wrists, his waist, his shoulders. Despite how overwhelming it was, the sensation was nothing but gentle.
“I–” Cloud started, then immediately cut himself off. Sephiroth was too close. His gaze was as intense as it had always been, but it had been ages since its weight had made him feel lightheaded. Now it had his heart fluttering in a way that he knew it really shouldn’t be.
“You can’t take me. But you could stay here. And I could have you too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper.
A low rumbling noise came from Sephiroth’s chest, his head dipping down as his silver hair caressed Cloud’s skin. The full moon was bright above them, lighting up the sky and the water alike. Cloud would never doubt its power, now.
“I can accept that.”
When Sephiroth kissed him, Cloud felt like he was bathing in moonlight, too. Its power was soft and gentle, but undeniable.
As he stood under the full moon’s light, the waves lapping at his feet, Sephiroth pressed up against him, Cloud had all he could ever want.