Hi! I have a question: why does Rain want to turn Nightfall into an attack dog? Does she have a specific goal in doing so? Does she want to use him to hunt/kill other exoliths?
thank you so much for asking!! rain has a few specific reasons for what she does to nightfall, none of which are really spoilers thankfully.
her first and primary reason is curiosity. rain has worked with plenty of exoliths in the past but nightfall is a huge edge case by all standards, so she wants to see the extent of his abilities and how much she can control them (and nightfall himself by extension).
second reason is that rain is big on control. since she isn't inherently very strong on her own, she tends to compensate in other ways by making connections with powerful people and, in this case, training and conditioning someone significantly larger than her to keep him in check. (i wouldn't describe rain as a very insecure person, she's just aware of her weaknesses and tries to close those gaps wherever possible.)
the final reason is pretty close to your guess, she wants him to be able to at least fight other exoliths if not kill them. rogue exoliths like the one who breaks in in chapter 3.5 aren't necessarily prolific but they do exist and can pose a serious threat to the right people, so having someone who can match or beat that level of power is always a plus. more details about this will be revealed eventually, hopefully in the next few chapters when i get those out.
content: a bit of violence, stabbing, some narrowly avoided cannibalism, someone gets bound and gagged, emotional breakdown, a little emotional manipulation, subpar caretaking, nightfall generally has a bad time
(previous chapter | masterlist)
-------------
The night before the dinner party, Nightfall makes his rounds through the house as usual. His changing sleep schedule hasn't had any effect on his newfound habit, so he roams the house floor by floor as usual, starting upstairs and working his way down.
Yet this time around, something feels different. Wrong, almost. The darkness is thicker, heavier in a way that messes with his vision like a physical presence. It places a sinking feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt since he was younger.
Nightfall breathes out slowly and continues his 'patrol' as usual. He makes his way down the carpeted stairs, keeping close to the handrail so they won't creak as he passes by.
He moves through the house's entryway, then the front room, then the dining room and kitchen.
Everything is in its right place. A mirror reflects a glimpse of him when he walks past. When he turns to look he can barely discern the outlines of his features.
The darkness seems even more present in the living room. A few things have been left out of place here, but he understands exactly why—a few books stacked on the arm of the couch that weren't there before, the TV remote left on a chair instead of the side table next to it. Small inconsistencies, nothing but signs of life.
It's only when he stops at the stairs to the basement that the feeling in his chest crystallizes into something more tangible. The air here seems a few degrees colder, chills rising on his skin as he stares down into the pitch-black stairwell.
But he refuses to be afraid. He knows this place, has patrolled it every day for nearly a month. The wall's smooth texture guides him down, step by step until the texture underfoot turns from carpet to bare concrete and he finally arrives at the house's lowest level.
Once he steps off the bottom stair he finally feels it in its entirety—an impulse, a twitching of energy that is noticeably not his own. It squirms inside him like something foreign, a sensation that makes his skin crawl and puts all his senses on high alert.
The basement is all the same at first glance but Nightfall's whole body sings like a dowsing rod, guiding him closer and closer to something in the far corner of the room near the window high up on the wall. As he draws closer it becomes apparent that there's a cold draft seeping in…
Not to mention the shadows pooling in the corner, just enough to hide a person of average height.
For a second, he freezes. Nightfall stays exactly where he is, a little less than arm's length away from this strange darkness, only really able to see it out of the corner of his eye. His heart rate spikes so hard he can feel it shudder in his chest.
He knows this kind of energy. Something more than human. He doubts Rain could handle them—he has to do it himself.
There's someone in his house. In his territory.
Slowly, with a measured strength, Nightfall reaches blindly into the shadows until his hand clamps onto something warm. A ragged gasp breaks the silence.
In an instant the darkness explodes outward, magic soaking into every corner of the room until he can't see a thing. But it doesn't matter. He feels the form jerk to the side in an effort to break his grip but he just holds on tighter, grabbing on with his other hand until his nails bite into skin and the intruder grunts in pain.
He doesn't need his vision to pull them down—all things considered he's much larger and more importantly much heavier than them, putting his full weight into getting this person to the floor. It's not without struggle, but by the time they're both on the floor he's barely broken a sweat. Metal audibly slides against metal and a dull pain spreads through his abdomen, but adrenaline quickly drowns out the finer details.
Right now he needs to get this person to stop squirming. He manages to pin their arms down, straddling their chest and bearing down with just enough weight to start squeezing the air from their lungs. Once they start wheezing and quit struggling, Nightfall finally relents a little bit.
In the brief stillness that follows, he can't deny what this is. He's known the whole time. The magic in the air, the darkness with a physical weight to it, the desperation they've been fighting him with. There's only one explanation.
"Give it up," he hisses through clenched teeth, "let me see you."
"Wh- what the hell are you?!" The panic in the intruder's voice gives him a sick rush of satisfaction, the kind he could only dream of getting before. "You're not—I'm not—"
"What did I just tell you?" He gives their wrists a mean squeeze until he feels the bones grind together. "Enough with the tricks. I know what you are." It takes a second for him to place it, but the air smells like fear—sharp and heady at once.
The stranger's chest heaves under him as the darkness retracts, shadows shrinking back to their original sizes… and oh, the terror on their face is priceless. Makes him feel like he's actually doing something with the strength he never learned to use. It makes him feel useful.
Nightfall looks them over for a second with an impassive expression. Their face isn't familiar in the slightest, not to mention there's no indication of an ID collar or bracelets. Not from the lab, then. "Tell me what you're doing here."
"Can't—" they gasp. "I- I was just—"
"Sure you can." The deadpan tone that leaves him sounds like it should belong to someone else. "Tell me, quickly."
"R-Rain—I was here for Rain! How do you even- how do you know what I am?"
Nightfall's eyes narrow. "I felt your magic. Can't get that from anything than an exolith, can you?" He places a hand over their chest, feeling their heart beat in time with the rapid pulse of magic in their system. If he really wanted to he could probably rip out the gemstone here and now.
"H-how-? There's no way you're—" Their eyes dart down to his midsection for some reason but he's had enough of their chattering.
"Quiet," he growls, hand moving to their throat and pressing just enough to make a point. He doesn't need to hear anything about how he looks like a freak, how it doesn't make any sense. Of course he knows it doesn't make sense!
The sense of control is starting to get to his head. This is what he's been capable of the whole time, had he only gotten the chance to catch something. He could've avoided starving in the woods if he'd just gotten his hands on something, anything.
In the moment, this person is nothing but prey to him. He's not hungry but the thought still makes his mouth water. A fresh piece of meat, a trophy—some proof that he could make it on his own. Proof that he's not helpless, that he could do more if he could just get out there and hunt.
Nightfall's salivary glands sting as he leans down over the intruder, studying them for a moment. A bite wouldn't hurt too much. An exolith could surely regenerate from the physical damage. With how he has them pinned, the column of their throat is fully exposed.
"Hey, hey, wait! What the hell are you doing?!" The intruder starts to thrash again, movements limited by the ever-tightening grip that refuses to let them squirm away. "Jesus, I'll get out of here, I promise! Please don't, please—"
Nightfall's teeth are less than an inch from that strip of tender flesh when a stair creaks behind him, the one he always avoids on his nightly rounds. He sits up like he's been shocked, though his grip doesn't waver as he turns to see Rain standing at the bottom of the stairs. She holds her cell phone in one hand, casting just enough light to illuminate the look of surprise on her face.
"What are you doing?" she asks. The silence that follows is brief yet damningly heavy.
"Get him off me!" The intruder shouts, giving a pathetic wriggle. "What is he, your fucking attack dog or something?! The fucker almost ate me!"
Nightfall can't move. All satisfaction of the moment evaporates and a cold dread settles in his stomach. "They broke in," he whispers numbly. "Said they were looking for you. I don't know why."
Rain stares quietly for a moment, then lifts the phone back to her ear. "Well, it looks like I was right. It looks like things are… taken care of right now, but we'll still need… mhm." She pauses. "I understand. We can wait. Thank you." She hangs up, pockets the phone, and flicks the light switch without warning—both Nightfall and the intruder recoil in surprise. Everything looks so much worse under the harsh glare.
"Hey, you!" The stranger shouts, still thoroughly pinned and lacking any clear exit routes. "You're the—"
"Please," Rain sighs, "keep your voice down. I've been trying to sleep, you know."
"Like hell you have! Come on, we all know your deal."
Rain tilts her head, the light disappearing from her eyes in a way that sucks all the warmth from the air. "Let's be civil, alright? You aren't getting out of this, so mind your tone."
"Are you sure?" Nightfall pipes up. "They're—stronger than you think. It's not…"
"Oh, I know." Rain stands over the two of them like she's trying to memorize the image. "An exolith, I assume?"
"Almost definitely. How can you—"
"I've worked with them before," she answers almost dismissively. "Keep them here, I'll be back."
Before Nightfall can say anything, Rain disappears into the furnace room and returns a minute later with a large coil of rope and a strip of fabric.
"…Rain?"
"Just a moment." She grabs a chair from nearby and pulls it up right next to Nightfall, metal scraping loudly against concrete as she pats the back of it. "Here—could you just put them here and hold them down for me?"
Nightfall blinks. "What are we doing?"
"Keeping them in one place until the police get here," she answers, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And hopefully keeping them quiet," she adds with a little glare at the intruder.
"Uh… right." The task proves easier than expected in the end. It's clear that the stranger has given up any hope of really fighting back, so they're mostly compliant as Nightfall maneuvers them onto the chair. It's almost like posing a ragdoll, keeping their limbs in place as Rain ties their ankles to the chair, then binds their wrists behind their back.
The intruder doesn't even make a sound until Rain approaches them with the strip of fabric in hand. "Come on, please, you really don't need to gag me, I'll be quiet," they say with an unsteady laugh.
"I'm not going off your word alone." In an instant she's back to that expressionless stare.
"You're- you're not gonna sic that guy on me, are you?" they ask, glancing nervously towards Nightfall.
"Him? Oh, no, there's no need for all of that." She shakes her head, smiling in a way that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
Watching this is starting to set off alarm bells somewhere in Nightfall's head. Whether it's the intruder's odd manner of submission or the way Rain is acting, just staying here is far too much for right now. He starts backing towards the stairs before he can even speak. "…Hey, Rain? I'm- I'll be upstairs if you need me."
"Go right ahead," Rain replies, waving a hand towards the stairwell. "I'll join you when I'm done… won't be long."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
—
Nightfall moves through the house in a daze, only stopping to take a breath once he's back upstairs in the safety of his room. He sits on his bed and stares into the darkness, not bothering to turn on the lights.
His stomach is little more than an empty pit. He can't salvage even a scrap of the accomplishment or satisfaction he felt just a few minutes prior—coming so close to doing the unthinkable has made that impossible. It wouldn't have been the first time he's done something like that, but at least he wasn't in his right mind before.
Isn't he supposed to be better than this? Why does the mere thought still make his mouth water? If Rain hadn't stopped him, then…
He was so close to becoming that mindless thing again. The thought twists his stomach painfully, saliva building in his mouth with a slight burn of acid and bile.
A soft knock at his bedroom door but after all that he's not sure how he could face her again.
"Nightfall?" Her voice is gentle, muffled. "May I come in?"
He swallows hard before answering but his voice still wavers traitorously. "…Yeah."
Rain steps into his room and quietly shuts the door behind her, a bit of a concerned look on her face as she turns on the light and looks him over. "…Oh, heavens. Stay here, I'll be right back." She disappears and comes back a minute later with a damp rag in one hand, quickly crossing the room to kneel next to his bed. "You're a mess."
"What? I'm fine." He's pretty sure he didn't just look like he was about to have a breakdown so the comment catches him a little off guard.
Rain looks a little puzzled. "Your shirt's covered in blood."
Is it? He's been too out of touch with himself to notice, but sure enough there's a large, dark stain on his shirt, still a little glossy in the light. The fabric is torn in one spot, just below his ribcage.
"…Oh. Uh. I might have gotten stabbed?" It's beyond him how it managed to escape his notice, but that does explain the pain he'd felt during his little altercation with the intruder.
"Hmm. Okay, let me see. We're going to need to check that out." Without asking, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and starts to lift it, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his skin.
"Hey, hey, wait!" Nightfall jerks away, pushing himself up off the bed. Panic surges through him, so intense it makes the room spin underneath him. The look Rain gives him only makes him feel worse—he's never raised his voice around her and the idea of upsetting her this way makes him a little nauseous. "Please, I swear I'm fine," he whispers after a brief pause to collect himself. "…Sorry for yelling."
"You got stabbed." Rain doesn't seem angry, but her hands still linger not far from the hem of his shirt. "Please, at least let me clean you up. You can't expect to go to bed still covered in blood."
"I can do it myself." The tightness in his throat chokes the words on their way out.
"Nightfall…"
She should be angry. He really can't fathom why she's being so patient with him, but she is. Still, he really doesn't want to do this.
"I'm grown," he says halfheartedly. "I can take care of it."
"I'm sure you can," Rain answers, "but I want to take care of you. You're living under my roof. Can't I do you a favor after what you did for me?"
"…What I did for you?" He echoes numbly. "Are you talking about…"
"Of course I am."
"Wha—I almost killed them!"
"I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. You were trying to protect yourself, weren't you?"
"I mean, yes, but—" Talking is almost painful. Nightfall's eyes start to sting with unshed tears. "I just—I scared myself, okay?" His voice falls back to a broken whisper.
"I know, I know. It's okay. I'm not upset." She gently takes his hand and eases him back down onto the bed.
When he says nothing in response, Rain finally lifts up his shirt a little, just enough to expose the injury.
Or, more accurately, what's left of it.
In place of a stab wound there's a thin, pale scar about an inch and a half long just below his ribs. Half-dried blood clings to his shirt and forms mottled patterns on his skin, the only real evidence of any damage.
"Sorry," Nightfall mumbles. He's not sure what he's apologizing for—maybe for indirectly lying about not being human or for just being a hassle to take care of—but it slips out of him like second nature.
"I figured you were an exolith," Rain says, so quietly it almost sounds like she's talking to herself. Her expression doesn't give much away. "Still, healing so quickly from a wound like that is… impressive."
Nightfall swallows hard and wills himself to keep it together. Piece by piece the scene once again becomes so familiar it's almost unbearable. It's like he's back in the medical wing again, trying not to cry while some nurse bandages his wounds with no real care for his emotional well-being.
"Sorry," he whispers again. This time, he's not really apologizing for anything but being told it's okay would make this a little better. Any response would do it at this point, just to give him something, anything. "I'm sorry."
There's no answer. Rain continues to clean him up without a word like she didn't even hear him. His next inhale hitches painfully, then shudders on its way out like a support beam ready to buckle. With the way his eyes are burning he's not sure if he can keep it together.
But if he cracks that'll just make all of this worse. Even though it's starting to hurt physically and just being left alone in the dark would be vastly preferable to all this, he sits right where he is and refuses to look Rain in the eyes and does his absolute best to stay quiet. It doesn't take long for the tears to start slipping down his cheeks but even then he doesn't make a sound.
Rain notices, of course. She flashes him one of those sad, pitying looks as she finally sets the rag aside and sits up straight. "Hey… I'll give you some privacy if that's what you want. And don't worry about the shirt, I'll get you a new one."
"Thanks," Nightfall whispers, wiping his face with the back of his hand. This is just embarrassing. "I just… I'm sorry for all of this." Fourth time's the charm.
Rain gets up slowly, sitting next to him on the bed, almost close enough for their knees to touch but she keeps her hands folded in her lap. "I'm not upset with you. It's okay." She holds a hand out to Nightfall, waiting for him to take it—she doesn't continue until he does, giving him a gentle little squeeze. "You did what you had to. If anything… I honestly admire it. I had no idea you were so strong."
Is that really what she thinks? Nightfall stares at their single point of contact—her hands are so small compared to his. "I just… it really scared me. If you hadn't stepped in, I would've…"
"I know. They had some… choice words for me." She chuckles dryly.
"But that's messed up, isn't it?"
Rain looks at him a little more intently, that expression coming across her face like she's searching for something again. "You don't need me to tell you that you're different. It could just be… another side effect of all this."
"Exoliths don't usually eat people," he mutters.
"I know. What I'm saying is, it's not your fault. I mean, if you really wanted to eat a person you had the chance when you and I first met." She smiles a little. "But you didn't, did you?"
"Mm." Nightfall makes a noncommittal little noise and stares down at the floor. This isn't helping very much, but at least he's not crying anymore. "I don't know, I just think I've lost my appetite," he laughs weakly.
"Oh, I don't blame you. Let's just hope it's back by tomorrow night."
Despite the lighthearted tone she uses, he'd really been hoping she wouldn't bring that up. "…Can I sleep on it?"
"Of course." She rubs her thumb over his knuckles. "I do hope you'll join us, though. I've talked to Victor and Cecilia a little more and they're quite keen on meeting you."
To be honest he doesn't want to go, but the thought of disappointing not only Rain but her friends as well makes his breath hitch again. "I… okay. I'll think about it." He gives her hand a halfhearted squeeze.
"Thank you."
A heavy silence settles over them for a while. Almost instinctively, Nightfall finds himself listening for any noise from downstairs, but the house is still as death. "How long until the cops get here? Are you sure it's okay to leave that person down there alone?"
"It'll only be half an hour at this point. Our little friend won't be going anywhere until then."
"And you just… left them there?"
Rain shrugs. "Given the options I think that was the more merciful choice," she chuckles. If it's meant to be a joke it doesn't land quite right, but he keeps his mouth shut. When the silence stretches for a few seconds too long, Rain sighs and gets to her feet. "Well, I assume you'll want your privacy now. Don't worry about the rest, I'll handle it. And thank you again."
Rain reaches out, ruffles Nightfall's hair a little, and leaves without giving him a chance to get another word in. Not that he had much to say, though.
He turns the lights off after she leaves, then lays down on his bed as the darkness sits heavy around him. The distant wail of sirens eventually draws closer, then stops, followed by a long period of muffled voices talking back and forth and the faint sound of movement around the house. He doesn't relax until he's finally certain that everyone has finally left, and even then the silence is cold comfort at best.
Nightfall sits and waits in the quietness that follows, part of him waiting for Rain to come by and check on him again, but her footsteps pass right by his door on her way upstairs without so much as a moment of hesitation.
Whether or not he'd truly wanted her company again, her absence leaves a pit in his stomach that lingers until dawn.
As it turns out, this new form of freedom has its downsides. Though Nightfall quickly loses the hypervigilance that once haunted his waking moments, it soon becomes apparent that there's… not all that much to do. Having a place to live doesn't seem to do very much for his borderline-nocturnal sleep schedule, and if nothing else it means he rarely has a chance to speak to Rain before she's off to bed.
He wanders the house in his free time during the first few days, committing the layout to memory as he moves from room to room. It's not a very large house but Rain has obviously put care into maintaining every corner of the place. Even the basement, unfinished with its cold concrete floors, is utterly spotless—everything has a place where it belongs. Nightfall lingers here often, sitting at the bottom of the steps and staring at the room, all shades of gray in the dark. As the cold creeps in the basement gains a perpetual chill to its atmosphere, comforting him in a way he can't put words to.
For the most part he feels like he's haunting the place like some kind of restless spirit. During the first three days he barely even sees Rain—she always makes an extra portion of dinner for him and leaves it out with a sticky note, sometimes with instructions on how to reheat it but other times 'Enjoy!' is the only thing written in careful print. Maybe his standards are low, but most of the time he regrets not being able to ask for seconds. It would be nice to at least speak to her a little more and somehow show his gratitude.
Being fed regularly is still strange. Even as the first week comes and goes, Nightfall struggles to adjust to the idea. Rain doesn't do this for a job. She's not contractually obligated to feed him or house him or care for him at all, but as he starts to wake in the evening and they catch occasional glimpses of each other, she smiles at him every single time. The sense of familiarity about her never fades.
Yet slowly, in the most minute ways, the change becomes less and less bizarre. His wanderings become less exploratory and more patrolling until it becomes pure habit, moving through the house in the same way—still not searching for anything, just further detailing the map he's constructed in his head. He wakes slightly earlier each day until a certain point during his second week where he finally gets up before sunset, just early enough to catch a glimpse of Rain working from where he stands in the hallway—he makes his presence known, and after that the door to her office is always shut and locked.
It's not that bad, really. It's a privilege to be bored like this, but the monotony begins to drag on him as he comes up on his third week living with Rain without much fanfare.
It's not until this point in early December that he finally steps out of his comfort zone a little. He wakes in the early evening, stirring to the unusually bright gleam of sunlight filtering through the blinds. The hum of the heating system vibrates gently through the floor, but his room is still oddly chilly.
He shuffles out of bed and pulls a spare blanket around his shoulders as he takes a quick peek through his blinds—the glare of sunlight on fresh snow sends a sharp stab of pain straight to his temples and he's quick to step away.
Based on the muffled noise from downstairs, it sounds like Rain hasn't finished up for the day just yet. Normally he'd stay well out of her way, but with how dull his everyday routine has become, the anxiety of human interaction doesn't win out against the chance to do something new. Despite the lingering urge to stay right where he is, he creeps downstairs as quietly as possible. If Rain isn't open to talking, it's better to avoid disturbing her at all.
He finds her in the living room, half-curled up at the end of the couch with a mug in one hand and a TV remote in the other. Some magazine lays open on her lap, apparently forgotten. She doesn't seem to notice his presence, at least at first, so he takes the time to simply watch.
The longer Nightfall stares, the more Rain looks… different. It might just be the fact that he's barely seen her up close since she took him in, but the planes of her face seem like they've shifted slightly. The obvious details remain, of course: the perpetually tired look, the same mole under the same brown eyes, but… something is different. Maybe it's just the bridge of her nose, or maybe his brain is just trying to piece together the concept of a normal human face—
Rain turns slightly, catching sight of him and smiling. She's clearly surprised to see him, but there's no hint of any negative emotion in her eyes.
"Oh, hi!" She waves at him, inviting him further into the room like he's been subconsciously waiting for permission to enter, as if he's some kind of vampire. "I didn't think you were awake. Are you hungry?"
"…No," he says softly. For the first time, the constant ache of hunger has finally faded away completely. "I'm just… bored, I think."
Rain's face lights up in a quiet sort of way. "Oh?" Adjusting herself in her seat, she nods to the couch. "You can come and sit with me, if you'd like."
While the offer is welcome, it still gives him a little shiver of anxiety. Their schedules have been so opposite that Nightfall has been completely left out of whatever Rain does when she's not working or sleeping. But now he has the opportunity to find out, a chance handed to him with the same kind eyes he's begun to associate with food and safety. Quietly, he steps forward and sits on the opposite end of the couch, pulling one of the little pillows into his lap so he has something to keep his hands occupied.
Rain flips through the TV channels for a second before she finally settles on some nature documentary and her full attention returns to Nightfall. "You know, if this snow doesn't get any worse, I was thinking about going into town and getting you some things for your room."
"…Oh." That little proposal hasn't crossed his mind in weeks.
"Do you have anything in mind that you'd want me to get? Any posters or decorations?"
Of course there's no rational reason for him to say no, but it's starting to become clear that he has no frame of reference for what decorations might appeal to him. "No. I…" He looks down, fiddling with a loose thread from the pillow. Something comes back to him, more of an impulse than a memory, the image of suddenly being so small and uncertain again. "…Uh. I don't know."
Rain just looks at him for a few seconds, her brows knit together in an expression that's probably some kind of pity. Like he's an animal to be put out of its misery, as crude and violent as the notion might be. Despite the domestic living he's growing accustomed to, that line of thinking has yet to fade away.
Finally, Rain sighs and looks back at the TV as the narrator continues on about food chains and the like. "…Well, I'll tell you what. Staying here all cooped up isn't good for either of us—I have a few friends in the area that'll be visiting for dinner in a few days. You're more than welcome to say hi to them if you want."
Maybe that could do him some favors. It's not the thought of being around other people that pulls on a thread of anxiety inside him, it's the thought of strangers seeing him like this. Like something clearly inhuman. The isolation could have made him forget, but with this prospect on the table he finds himself torn again. The solitude of his old life hasn't quite disappeared, nor has the sense of longing for the community he'd had before, all united in their very specific predicament. Now that they're gone—or rather, now that he's gone—he's finally becoming aware of the quiet emptiness lingering in the hollows of his ribcage.
"That might be nice," Nightfall whispers.
"Perfect! They're all very understanding folks, don't worry. They won't have an issue with you at all." Rain takes a sip from her mug, her attention once again drifting back to the TV. Nightfall's attention lingers on her hands for a moment, on the long, reddish scar on her right palm. It looks… much older than he'd have expected, especially since he was there the night she got it.
Before he can look any closer, she readjusts herself and the scar disappears from sight as her hand drifts down to the magazine on her lap. He quickly shoves the question out of his mind. It'd be rude to ask.
It's probably better to forget about it entirely. Rain is giving him more than the bare minimum here, isn't she? Of course there are the obvious provisions of food and shelter—especially since this far north the snow will certainly go on for a while—but now she's handing him another chance to act like a regular person. How could he ever even think to squander that opportunity when it's the only thing he's ever wanted?
"What are they like?" The question leaves him without much consideration. "Your friends, I mean. Just so I can… know what to expect."
"Well, they're very upper-class," she says with a little laugh like it's some kind of confession. "They're very professional, but I wouldn't say they're too uptight. I mean, I made friends with them after all." She glances down, studying her nails as she continues. "I don't know about the others, but I know for sure Victor and Cecilia will be coming. Just some friends I've made through work."
Nightfall just nods, not bothering to press any further. Since Rain keeps her office locked at all times, the question of what she does for work is probably just as off-limits as the room itself. It's far better to play it safe. "Do they… know about me?"
"Somewhat. I told them I have a guest that's staying for a while but that's about it. I'll give them the gist of it ahead of time."
"And they won't be… uh, put off at all?" Nightfall gestures vaguely to himself.
"We've seen a lot of strange things in our time," Rain chuckles. "Don't stress it."
Nightfall just nods again and looks back down at the pillow, curling the loose piece of string around his finger—it catches on his nail and snaps. Maybe it could be fine. He'll just let Rain do the talking if it comes down to that. "So… when will they be over?"
"We're looking at Friday night," she answers, "so you'll have a few days. I'd hate to push you too far if you decide you don't want to be part of it."
"Thank you."
"It's no problem. I really do want this to be your home, Nightfall. I'm glad to do whatever you need to feel comfortable."
Home. Hearing her say it so bluntly feels a little odd, but she's right, isn't she? This is his home—he's tried to frame it as a temporary thing, but at this point he's so familiar with the house that it feels like his territory. The connotation isn't quite as reassuring, but that's the truth of it. He knows this house inside and out.
But maybe, when he finally lets himself leave behind those old habits, this really could be home. Just him and Rain.
content: implications of a previous lab setting, brief implications of human experimentation, a bit of dissociation
(previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist)
-------------
Nightfall is on his feet within seconds, pulled right from the edge of some hazy dream as he stumbles out of his room into the hallway. He hardly realizes he’s even tracking a sound until he’s made it to the bottom of the stairs, adrenaline already dumping into his system. There's no way to tell if it's out of self-preservation or some kind of territorial instinct that's never reared its head, but in the silence all his senses sharpen.
He creeps through the living room towards the kitchen, all but holding his breath. One of the lights over the counter casts a weak orange glow against the darkness—water and broken glass are everywhere, but he can’t see the culprit yet. Once he comes to a halt in the doorway, though, the only person it could be is…
“...Rain?”
She startles a bit, turning away from the counter to face him. Blood drips from a gash in the palm of her right hand. “Nightfall?” She smiles when she recognizes him, the tension disappearing from her body language altogether. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, it’s fine. What happened?”
“Just dropped a glass, don’t worry. Cut myself trying to take care of it.” She turns and grabs a paper towel to staunch some of the bleeding. “While you’re here… could you do me a favor and help sweep this up? The dustpan’s in the cupboard over there.”
Nightfall just stands there for a moment, forced to reorient himself as the rush fades away. Of course it wasn't anything to worry about. After a second he gets himself together and does as Rain asks, fetching the broom and dustpan and kneeling to start sweeping up the mess.
Once all evidence of the accident is safely disposed in the trash can, Nightfall gets to his feet, still a little shaky. Rain seems entirely unbothered, just keeping light pressure on her hand to staunch the bleeding, but aside from that there's no real danger to speak of. Based on the look on her face, there was no need to be so worried in the first place. Still, the tension won't leave his body and the hyperawareness only draws more attention to the tightness forming in the pit of his stomach.
“Is… is it alright if I grab something to eat?” he asks, almost tentative.
Rain looks at him with a raised eyebrow—maybe it's a little odd to have a six-foot-something freak asking permission for something so simple, he's not quite sure—but she nods and gestures to the pantry. “Of course, help yourself. I'm surprised you didn't ask for seconds this evening, I'm sure you're starving.”
Nightfall is too busy opening the pantry to really hear the second remark, focused on finding something easy to eat—he'd never really had to prepare his own meals before. His eyes land on a bag of beef jerky, which he's quick to tear open. The taste of meat—though it may not be fresh—quiets something in his hindbrain and he relaxes, leaning against the counter as he forces himself to eat slowly. “Thank you,” he murmurs after a moment, “for letting me stay here. You didn't have to.”
“It's the least I could do,” Rain replies easily, still holding the paper towel to her hand. “The weather is going to get bad soon and, well… it's better that I found you rather than someone else. Others… might not be so kind.”
It makes sense, he supposes. Even a shower and a fresh change of clothes couldn't change the fact that he looks, quite bluntly, like a freak. He's just lucky that he caught the attention of possibly the only person unfazed by that fact. He tears off another chunk of meat, taking another moment before he speaks again. "Is that really the only reason?"
“Well, you're still human, aren't you?” she asks, almost innocently.
Nightfall doesn’t respond right away, the silence stretching to the point of discomfort. Even in the hazes of his memory he knows exactly what he is, defined by the unnatural energy that's shaped him into what he is now. He just doesn't know if he should tell her.
Ultimately, he just shrugs and glances away out the window. Darkness swallows up the woods beyond the modest backyard, but he can still make out the faint silhouettes of small animals shuffling about in the underbrush.
“If I may,” Rain continues, “how long were you out there?”
Nightfall thinks for a long time, tries to sort through the blurred cycles of night and day. In the end he doesn't even try to make his answer sound certain. “...Two months, maybe.”
She sits with that information for a moment, looking not quite at Nightfall but through him, into him, like she's searching but he's not sure for what. It doesn't take long for him to itch under the weight of her gaze and he glances back to the window to try and evade it. Something about her eyes is keen, sharp, familiar. Another whisper from a lifetime ago. When she speaks again his eyes are immediately drawn back to her as if by pure reflex.
“That must've been difficult,” Rain concludes. There's a trace of what might be pity in her voice.
“It was,” he agrees quietly. “It’s good to be out of the cold, at least. And to shower.” He huffs out a quiet laugh as he speaks, all too aware of how low his standards have become. He never entirely forgot that those were the bare minimum for most people—he just stopped seeing himself as ‘most people’. But the fact that Rain sees some humanity in him makes him feel just a little lighter.
Rain chuckles as well, a small smile crossing her face. “I'm sure. You're welcome to stay as long as you want.” Even now there's a quiet understanding between the two of them—Nightfall’s other options are extremely limited, if available at all. Like she said, it’s unlikely that anyone else would be willing to take him in—he’s not sure if the changes to his body are at all reversible, but until he looks like a regular person again his choices are few and far between. But for now, with his hunger sated and the cold kept safely at bay, he’s fine with staying in this strange limbo for a little bit longer.
The silence hangs for a few moments before Nightfall glances at the clock above the stovetop—just after two in the morning. He’d slept for longer than he meant to.
“Are you heading back to sleep?” Rain asks, following his gaze.
“No, that was more of a nap than anything.” He laughs dryly and shakes his head. “Slept longer than I thought I would, actually.”
The smallest look of surprise flickers over Rain's face but it's gone in an instant, replaced by that soft, gentle smile from before. “Well, make yourself comfortable. There’s plenty around the house for you to do—lots of books, if you’re inclined. Do you have a favorite genre, by any chance?”
“I never had much time to read,” Nightfall admits. With a wry attempt at humor, he adds, “But I can’t say I ever really liked science fiction.”
Rain laughs in response, the sound tugging at something painfully sensitive in Nightfall’s chest. “I guess that’s fair, we all have our preferences. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something that interests you—I’ve built up quite the collection over time. Just make sure you put things back where you find them.” She stands up a little straighter and reassesses the cut on her hand—the bleeding has stopped—then crosses the room to toss the blood-stained paper towel in the trash. From where she stands in the doorway, she looks back at Nightfall. “I’m going to head back to bed. Feel free to come get me if you need something, alright?”
“I will,” he murmurs, “thank you.”
---
Nightfall stays in the kitchen, practically motionless until he hears the faint sound of Rain’s bedroom door latching shut. Only after he’s sure he’s alone does he start moving through the house, still operating off his instinct to walk as quietly as possible.
Just like Rain said, the house is full of books—he hadn’t had much time to notice before. He doesn’t bother to read or even skim over most of them, just walking alongside the shelves and running his fingertips over the spines as he passes by. What he does notice, though, are the scientific and medical journals all over the place. Most are neatly organized in their own sections but others are left on end tables, pages worn and dog-eared.
But Nightfall has had enough of medical jargon for a lifetime, so he leaves it be. He eventually settles on some novel called ‘Dracula’ and turns back to the stairs—
But he stops before he can take more than a few steps.
Suddenly, watching himself move feels so wrong.
The scene is so familiar... time itself becomes thin. For a moment he’s not just walking back to his room but stealing away to his sleeping quarters with something nice in tow, trying to walk as silently as possible to keep from alerting any staff members. He stops mid-step, looking down at himself, his senses fuzzing slightly at the edges.
He’s taller than he was back then… much taller. It feels so wrong that for a second all he can do is really take in the sight. Even though it’s not the first time he’s taken a second to process it all and it should have been strange enough the first time when he’d laid himself bare in the warm light of the bathroom, something about this is so much worse. Logically he knows he controls his own movements, logically he knows he always has, but right now his awareness stands a few steps away from his body and even the smallest twitch is a betrayal of his own autonomy.
The sight shouldn’t surprise him. He remembers what they did to him, after all. Still, the reminder puts a foul taste in his mouth.
His grip tightens on the book in his hand until the sensation drags him back into reality. It takes a moment but the world returns to him piece by piece: the low drone of the house’s heat kicking on, the faint rustle of the wind outside, and the soft texture of the carpet underfoot as he shifts his weight from side to side. It doesn’t soothe his nerves very much but at least he has an anchor point beyond his body, something to reorient himself in time and space.
The way he shakes his head is more reflex than conscious thought, startling him just enough that he can force himself to focus.
Piece by piece, in the smallest bits of sensory information, the world comes back to him. The house’s heat kicks on with a low drone and a palpable shifting under the floorboards like it’s breathing life into the place. When he shifts his weight he becomes more aware of the carpet’s soft texture underfoot—it’s not exactly soothing but it gives him an anchor point, something to remind him that he still inhabits some kind of physical space in this house. Outside, the wind rustles through the trees in a familiar rhythm.
The storm has passed, he tells himself. It’s done, it’s behind him now. This house is safe, a place where he’s free to walk around in the middle of the night whenever he can’t sleep. All those things he’s mostly forgotten but his body still remembers… he can just leave them. There’s no need to worry about it.
For once, he has the freedom to breathe. He uses that freedom to walk upstairs without worrying about creaking stairs, returning to his bedroom without making sure he closes the door in utter silence. He uses that freedom to settle down on his bed with the lights still on with no fear of listening for footsteps outside.
And then, when sleep finally catches up to him and the first rays of dawn filter in through his blinds, he uses that freedom to burrow under his covers and sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.
content: very brief mentions of violence/cannibalism, mentions of a previous lab setting, some implications of human experimentation
(next chapter | masterlist)
-------------
For weeks, hunger has been the only constant. Gnawing and restless and bone-deep, a particularly strong pang of it forces Nightfall awake. He cracks an eye open as if hoping that his surroundings might have changed while he slept.
The only change, of course, is the light. The last rays of sun filter through the trees, casting long shadows over the forest floor as daylight slips away. He lays there and watches it for a moment, curled in on himself to conserve warmth.
At times, he’s wondered if he should go back to the lab, if they’d even allow him. Could he just crawl back and hope the guards wouldn’t shoot him on sight? Could he limp back to safety with his tail between his legs and submit himself to their judgment again? Something ugly in his chest twists at the idea—whether it’s because he’s too proud or too stubborn, he refuses to entertain the thought for too long. Regardless, Nightfall remembers enough of the carnage from that night to know that even if they accepted him, things could never be the same.
But even when he resigns himself to this new existence, it still leaves the question of survival. In the weeks that have passed since his escape he’s only eaten twice: the unfortunate nurse who tried to stick him with a sedative, and then weeks later, an injured deer on the side of some nameless country road. All that matters is that it hasn’t been enough. He’s running on fumes as it is.
Everything is only made worse when he's forced to confront the fact that he underestimated how difficult it would be to find food. He’s long since lost his taste for plants, and hunting is even worse. He’s yet to get used to this strange body, a body primed for violence but lacking the speed and agility he needs to fend for himself.
But his senses are still sharp. While he’s still breathing, he’s still alive. He can pull himself together one more time.
It takes him a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps, then a second longer for his reflexes to decide whether he should consider it food or danger. By the time he’s even sat up, though, the stranger comes into sight. Though he instinctively pulls down the hood of his jacket to keep some sense of normalcy—pass himself off as some homeless person looking for a place to sleep—she’s already gotten a look at his face and he’s gotten a look at hers.
The stranger is a tall, slender figure with warm brown eyes. Unlike him, she’s dressed for the weather—a thick jacket, gloves, and a scarf draped loosely around her shoulders like a contingency. A large knife sits in a leather sheath at her hip. She looks at him and she smiles.
“Hey… are you alright?”
He stares at her blankly. Is he hallucinating?
“Sorry, I was just passing through... you look pretty rough. Do you need help?”
His answer is a simple reflex. “Do you have anything to eat?” His mouth is hopelessly dry—when he speaks it's hardly even a whisper. But if she has anything, anything to eat, even just a few scraps, he’s more than happy to overlook her total disregard for his appearance.
“Not here,” she says with a shake of her head, “but I have plenty back at my house.” She pauses, looks him over, and adds, “You can come with me if you’d like. You must be freezing.”
“Please.” He sounds a lot more desperate than he’d like to admit, but she’s already offering him a hand—a hand he readily accepts, the first human contact he's felt in months.
“Alright, alright, come with me.” She chuckles and helps Nightfall to his feet, then keeps walking without even bothering to give him a second glance over her shoulder.
He follows her, of course. How could he not? Trailing along behind her like a massive shadow, he stares at the back of her head and thinks. She’s something different yet so familiar, something he vaguely remembers from a lifetime ago—a lifetime of faces and voices that have since been erased, leaving nothing for him but the most basic idea of how to be a person.
He’s not a person anymore, not really. He’s been relegated to his instincts, hiding away from prying eyes, but even as an animal he doesn’t know how to live. Maybe she sees that in him, the need for some kind of foothold. If he can just start again, get a better hand dealt to him…
“Mind if I ask your name, by the way?” The stranger’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence like a razor.
He stops, thinks, sorts through his memories and comes back with nothing. All that remains is the most basic identification they gave him—a project name and a number branded into his skin with red ink. But it’s all he has.
“Nightfall,” he finally murmurs. “You can call me Nightfall.”
She hums and nods in approval, tucking her hands into her pockets. “I’m Rain. Nice to meet you.”
“I… yeah.” He itches with the urge to reach out, shake her hand or something, remind himself that this is real, but she’s keeping a pace that won’t let him hesitate for a moment without falling behind. “Nice to meet you too.”
---
There’s effectively no conversation for the rest of the walk—for Nightfall it’s agonizing, but Rain seems comfortable enough in the silence. When she unlocks the door to the front of her house and lets him in, it suddenly occurs to him how long it’s been since he’s been inside a house at all. He stands there, waiting, as Rain shuts the door behind them and drops her keys on a small table nearby.
For a house in effectively the middle of nowhere, it’s a pretty nice place: warm, spacious, well-furnished. It smells of wood and fresh spices and at least from the entryway, everything seems spotless. Nothing out of place.
“Don’t just stand there,” Rain chuckles with a gentle nudge to his arm, “come on. Settle down and I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”
It’s tough for Nightfall to pinpoint, but that might be the exact moment that everything kicks in. After weeks of clinging on by a thread, after countless days of trying to go through the motions, it’s over. His body practically moves on autopilot as he walks to the living room and collapses onto the couch.
Even though he’s only been awake for a short while, the exhaustion in his system is nothing short of bone-deep. It’s the kind he knows sleep can’t fix, a tiredness he remembers from a lifetime ago, perhaps one that never left him to begin with. Sleep still tempts him, but he forces himself to stare at the ceiling and listen to the sounds of Rain preparing something in the adjacent room. She hums quietly to herself, some tune he doesn’t recognize accompanied by the occasional sound of dishes or silverware clinking.
After a few minutes Rain comes back into the living room—the meal she’s prepared is simple to say the least, but Nightfall is willing to take whatever he's given. She hands him a bowl of soup and sets a glass of water on a side table, then sits on the other side of the couch to keep a comfortable distance.
“Don’t eat too fast,” she advises him. “I’m sure you’re starving, but if you have too much you’ll get sick.”
It's difficult to take her advice—god is it difficult, but he forces himself to pick away at the food bit by bit. Better to eat slowly than fuck it up and end up worse than he started. It doesn’t help that Rain is silent the entire time, just watching him eat. It's only once he finishes eating and starts nursing his drink at a more sensible pace that she finally says anything.
“So… what brings you around here?”
The answer comes from him a little too easily. “Didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Homeless?”
“Something like that.”
She hums thoughtfully and nods. “Well, you're welcome to crash here if you need a place to stay. I'd hate to let you freeze to death out there.”
Nightfall isn't sure if he's physically able to freeze to death, what with all the weird new features of his physiology, but he can't refuse the offer. He’d be an idiot to waste his one shot at a half-civilized life. Not to mention Rain seems… different. He still can’t figure out why the sight of him hasn’t scared her off. Maybe she knows something else that can help him.
“That… would be nice,” he finally whispers.
Rain smiles, leans over, and pats him on the shoulder. “Then you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. Let’s go ahead and get you settled in, alright?” Rain stands up and gestures for him to follow. “I have a guest room ready upstairs that you’re free to use.”
The second floor of Rain’s house is just as meticulously kept as the first, small paintings and photographs hung throughout the hallways. Most of the doors here are shut, but the one at the end of the hall is slightly ajar and seems to open into some kind of office—Nightfall tries to get a better look inside, but Rain’s already leading him down a different turn before he gets to see anything. She stops in front of another open door, a large but sparsely decorated bedroom.
“I know it’s not much, but…” She smiles, looking a little embarrassed. “It should be fine for now. I can always go into town and fetch some decorations if you want.”
Nightfall stands in the doorway for a few long seconds. This, by all his standards, is all he could ever ask for. It’s a far cry from the shared quarters he used to be familiar with, dozens of people and dozens of bunk beds lined up in one long room. The idea that this is his, entirely private…
“It’s perfect,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”
“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” she tells him, starting to turn away. “I have a bit of work to finish up, but come talk to me if you need something, alright? I’ll be right down the hall.” Once he nods in agreement, she leaves without another word.
The first thing Nightfall does with his newfound free time is shower.
He sits under the spray for what feels like an eternity, dirt and grime slowly coming free from his hair, his skin, under the nails he’s let grow and sharpen into claws. He lets the water run until the heat colors his skin with blotches of red and the air thickens with steam, right on the verge of too much but still within the realm of comfort.
He feels lighter when he finally shuts the water off and steps out of the tub, wiping the condensation from the mirror. The figure that looks back at him… he had no idea what to expect, but it wasn’t this. He stares at the marks littering his body, the huge Y of silvery scar tissue sprawling across his chest. Though he can’t see the source of it in this lighting, he still feels the slow pulse of magic through his veins like a second heartbeat. For as long as he can clearly remember, it’s always been there. Always present. Always radiating a power he can’t hope to control.
He dries himself off and walks back to his room. The door to Rain’s office is closed now, but he can hear the faint murmur of conversation from behind it. He leaves it be.
With the sun finally sinking below the horizon outside, the only thing he can manage to do is lay down on his bed and close his eyes—just a bit of rest, he tells himself.
A few hours later, he wakes to the sound of shattering glass from downstairs.
