Citeas' Writing Corner

Hello everyone, I CiteasPrinceofHell, recently opened up both a Tumblr and Instagram to not only sell but promote my art and writing! I was only a post or two in when I received a comment on my very first one saying 'I like your art. Do you do commission? If so please DM me.' which is exactly why I opened my blog in the first place! I started the message thread with my usual enthusiastic self explaining the purpose of my blog and how I was excited to be able to have my first commission.

RED FLAG #1: This scam artist made me wait a whole day after I had messaged him nearly instantly. I messaged him a couple times in the hopes to 'get my first commission', but after two messages I gave up. With no response I sent my google forms link, which I use to catalog what people want, saying 'if you're serious about a commission fill this out and I'll get back to you'.

RED FLAG #2: When the artist did get back to me they NEVER followed my policies nor acknowledged what I was asking of him. Ignoring all my previous messages he asked if I accept paypal to which I said yes. He was unwilling to click the link, which is understandable not wanting to click random links, even though it was clearly stated as a google forms link in the link itself. He never stated any concerns with 'suspicious links' and instead steamrolled me to ignore my policies. (which I regretfully allowed)

We continued the conversation with the normal back and forth. 'What would you like?', 'How exactly would you like it done', and 'Do you need examples?'. He then asks me something along the lines of 'Are you skilled at drawing humans, pets, and landscapes?' which one could clearly see from my portfolio but I confirmed my skills.

RED FLAG #3: Disregarding the whole conversation before he sends me a random picture of a woman in the snow which I, at the time, assume to be the person commissioning me. He tells me he has a budget of $300 dollars and would like a full render. My prices are not nearly as high as I only require $93 for a full render and I tell "her" as much. I still have not realized that I was a potential victim for being scammed-

RED FLAG #4: The artist confirmed they wanted a 'full render' with 'same pose' and 'same color'. Demanding my paypal email two different times before confirming with me. THIS is where I got suspicious of this commissioner. I, now cautious of this potential client, break down what the process would look like from placing the payment on the deposit, delivery time frame, and which paypal to send it to. Without skipping a beat they ask me if I received the payment as they'd sent it.

RED FLAG #5: Seeing that the "payment was sent" I went to go check out my paypal account to find that the balance had, strangely, remained the same despite supposedly being paid $47. I restarted the website, logged out and in, and restarted my computer because god be damned if I was going to accuse my 'customer' of something unsavory! When nothing changed I sheepishly told them that I hadn't received payment. I told them I was going to restart my computer again but wouldn't you know it? 'Try checking your spam folder, you should've gotten an email' and what did I find inside my spam folder? An email titled 'Account limit due restriction'.

Y'all read the part where I offer writing pieces for a fee, right? Well for those who might not see it 'Account limit due restriction' isn't a complete sentence. Now it was all very official looking at first glance but the closer one looked at the email it was obvious that '[email protected]' was NOT paypal. It ALSO reflected the tone and wording I had come to recognize as my client’s.

All of the warning sirens started going off in my head by this point to which I search up 'Is it common for new artists trying to commission getting scammed through paypal' to which I found this post ( Reddit Post _ FunkyEel ) that described a similar situation as to what I was going through. It was then I realized that I had just spent THREE BLOODY DAYS talking and working with what was likely a scam artist. It was then I decided to play along to see just how far this person would go. I mean if you waste my time then it's only fair that I waste a little bit of yours.

So, gassed up with a little spite, I replied that there was some kind of problem on the account and that the email described there was a crediting problem. Lena Nilison was going to have to pay me an additional $300 USD to get the funds sent to my account. 'Oh the humanity!' I cried but rest assured that "Lena" knew just what to do.

'Oh, I've run into this before.' She said. 'Just means I'll have to send you another $300 for the $100 on the commission.' How kind was Lena that'd she'd be willing to send me $400 just to get my paypal account 'upgraded to a BUSINESS USER' to which she did! But wait! I first had to refund "Lena Nilison" $300 so that I could get an immediate release of my account credit of $400.

If I DIDN'T refund the money I was and I quote: 'Failure to make the refund means your Name and Address will be forwarded to the Law Enforcement Agency, which may result in an Arrest.' The Law Enforcement Agency- You couldn't have come up with something more threatening? Like F.B.I or C.I.A or even your local law enforcement? No I was to face punishment by some mystery agency without a name.

I told "Lena" this and she was pretty much like 'yeah just give me money so you can make your money'. Seems simple! I told her that I was 'confused' and that 'doing a refund from my own money could be confusing' but "Lena" was there for me with yet another answer.

'Do you use E-transfer?' she asked. When I answered that I didn't know what one was she told me that it was simple. The refund could be done outside of paypal as well and I wouldn't have to face the mighty threat of 'law enforcement agency'. Enthusiastically I told her that sounded great! To instruct me on what to do and how to do it.

She told me she'd send me a link (DO NOT CLICK ON RANDOM LINKS NO MATTER WHAT) to purchase a 'Razer gold card for $300' and that if it was too hard? That she was willing to generously walk me through it using step-by-step screen shots. I happily agreed while drafting up a message to let her in on the fact that I knew "Lena" was a scammer and how sad I was that this scammer had to resort to such things.

I spent some time drafting a short message for this scammer to which they grew increasingly impatient. Sending me a multitude of texts like '?', 'are you there?', '???', and 'what are you doing?' trying to rush me along. Take it from me guys, never rush a writer on what they're working on or you miss out on quality. So instead of a heartfelt message that was built to hopefully change and alter the course of this scammer's life they received exactly this

"Okay okay so here's the deal. I know you've been trying to scam me and it really sucks that'd you do that kind of thing. Like not the whole time but all I had to do was look up your fake emails. The worst part is I was REALLY excited to get my first comission.

Like does your mother know you scam struggling artists? Are you proud of yourself for this kind of thing?

Either way I have reported you to Paypal and Tumblr. I can tell you're likely struggling to which is why you pull this kind of stuff but take this as a lesson and do something productive with your life. For real dude I believe you could do something great if you tried.

Bye bye now."

I am a compassionate soul and even though this walking parasite survives off of the misfortune of others I hoped my words would reach them. Alas... as soon as I had finished reporting their phishing scam I was left with only two messages.

"I'm proud" and their final message "U go die"

I feel little pity for scam artists but perhaps someone needs to show them a little kindness when they've been caught. Like escorting a spider out of your house in a paper cup. Sure a scammer isn't as useful as a spider but they provide something small, yet essential to our ecosystem. The amusement of many who will read the tales of scammer's shortcomings and realize that, yes, even the lowly man scraping gum from beneath tables is more beneficial than them.

PLEASE learn from this post and don't let scammers get the best of you! Whether you're an artist, writer, or business owner! Seriously these people can even have someone who was literally raised on 'beware scams and spam' like me fooled for a moment. Stay safe and stay vigilant.

And iantfluxlace? I hope you turn away from scams and find something you can actually be proud of.

Dear Jacques, 

      My dear friend, my Oidhche…

      I murdered you. 

      I took your life out of cowardice for I feared you and your secrets. I wish I had been stronger than my instincts. Now you’re no longer here and I unjustly remain. I still see your blood on my hands and how I have dishonored your trust. I dishonored you.

      You’ve known my fear of the unknown and immorality since the moment you took my hand in the market that day. You tried so very hard to teach me all that I didn’t know and show me how to grow. I was so afraid I didn’t want to learn. I was afraid that if I trusted in you, this world, that I would only find other ways to be hurt. 

      I let your secrets be my reason, those things you shared only with the night. I should’ve understood you. You had every right to have them just as I had the right to mine. 

      The six years we traveled together should’ve made it easier to understand but I have only ever seen time from the perspective of elves. Six years, a meager pittance to me but to you a significant portion of life. How many stolen looks had I missed? How many gentle words did you waste on me? So much of your life was spent on me and I realized far too late what we were. So willingly blind to it I was that it had to be explained to me by those who weren’t even there.

      I suppose that’s why I even wrote this to begin with. Knowing that we’re tied together, even in death. Dying and becoming you it’s… painful. Being ripped from my own skin into the suffocating darkness where my mind no longer wonders. Is it the same for you? Each time I am brought back I could swear I feel your presence passing me by to take the place where I was. I’m… thankful each time I return but that makes me feel no more worthy to stay. Why do I constantly believe you would be better holding the reins before me?

      My group of friends know of you. They know what I have done to you and what I have been tasked with. They understand that I loved you and that I fear you. They’ve seen the coward that took your life. They don’t know how much I need you. They don’t know just how weak I am without you. Killing you has cost me… everything. I cannot even bear the touch of others without being reminded of you laying in the coffin.

      I hope you hate me and I am afraid that you already do. I will live several lifetimes longer than even you, should I succeed in bringing you back. I will never be able to forget what I have done to you. I won’t, and cannot, run from this. I won’t pretend any longer that there is a clean slate to be had but I won’t give in to paranoia ever again.

      Jaques, I am so very sorry that I got you in this situation. I don’t ask for your pity, I never have. I don’t even ask for your forgiveness. All I ask of you, though I have no right, is your trust that I won’t give up. I will see this through to the end no matter the cost. You should know that, even though I was too stubborn or blind to say it, I loved you too. I still do.

      Most Determined,

Final Days: Betrayal

The frigid winter night air stung Rann’s throat as he desperately tore through wood to reach the wagon. Branches and brambles tore at his face while the sounds of clashing metal sang behind him. Desperately pushing loose curls out of his eyes he spotted the wagon where they’d left it by the river. 

      “Come on, come on!” Rann screamed at himself, willing his legs to carry him faster. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from exertion but from how terrified Jacques seemed. It would make sense considering the man had been robbed of his most powerful tool.

      It had all started that day with Jacques trying to light their breakfast fire. No matter how many times he’d tried his magic the pit stayed cold. So much so that Rann had to start the fire himself. Problems like that began to unfold throughout the day and it seemed that all magic had gone from the world. It was actually the most Jacques had ever relied on Rann and it was terrifying.

      Rann flung himself into the driver’s seat, his hip hitting the other side, and dove for the reins while a stream of colorful curses spilled from his lips. He gripped the leather tightly and whipped the reins so hard he was sure they’d tear from the bridals. The sweat on his skin turned to ice with the air rushing quickly past.

      Jacques had said that his mission would attract unsavory types who coveted what he had. Rann didn’t know up until the last two months what treasure Jacques had and he still didn’t understand what was so special about it. All he knew was that whatever person wanted it had been following them for months. An unsteady presence of unease growing bigger and bigger. Like a wolf circling sheep.

      Rann winced as low hanging branches slapped and rubbed against the outside of the cart. A particularly low branch collided with his right cheek, splitting it, to which warm blood welled and rolled down his face. More curses and more whipping of the reins. He had to get back to Jacques.

      The two of them had split from the cart, leaving it a few paces off in the wood, while they went searching for mushrooms. Rann had insisted since he’d been out while Jacques gently encouraged him that they could go without food for one night. While they argued a dark hooded figure stepped out of the wood into the clearing, surrounded by a small militia. Jacques immediately drew his mace and Rann his sword.

      The horses broke free of the tree line and tore across the clearing towards Jacques where he faced off with their hooded foe. The way the two moved it was a surprise Rann could keep track at all. His eyes scanned the battlefield, littered with the corpses of the militia men their foe had brought. Rann’s handy work.

      Rann had skipped his way around the field, dispatching soldier after soldier. Each that crossed his blade fell while Jacques held his own against the hooded foe. Rann thrust his shortsword through the gut of his final opponent and turned to help Jacques. Rann stepped between Jacques and his opponent just as a wicked sword came hurtling down towards him. Rann lifted his own sword to block but Jacques shoved him out of the way. In an instant their foe pivoted their attack and thrust their sword straight through Jacques’ side.

     “I got the wagon!” Rann cried and turned the cart so that he was headed straight for Jacques. Jacques didn’t respond, clutching his wound as blood spilled endlessly to the ground. Jacques was left using all of his strength to hold back against their opponent.

      Rann didn’t wait for his opening and just urged the horses to keep moving. Jacques fell to a knee and his shoulders hefted with exhaustion as he blocked two more glancing blows. 

     “I’ve got you!” Rann tore the cart between them, causing their foe to fall on their back, and reached out for Jacques.

      “Thank you.” Jacques rasped as he grabbed Rann’s hand in his, blood slicking his grasp. When Rann realized he didn’t have the strength to pull himself inside Rann hefted him up where he stumbled and fell into the back with a grunt. “Get us out of here!” Jacques commanded.

      “Right!” Rann took the reins again to get them moving when the air whistled and the wicked blade sank into the wood of the cart’s tongue. Rann cursed loudly and before their enemy could wrench it free he kicked them hard in the head. They fell back on the snow with a surprised grunt, sword in tow, giving Rann the time he needed to get the cart moving. 

      With reins in hand Rann drove the cart a fair ways forward and doubled back in a large arc so he was far enough to stay out of their foe’s way. He always hated running from a fight but if this warrior was strong enough to put Jacques down then Rann was absolutely useless. His hands shook from both fear and how tightly he clutched the reins. As they passed their foe made no effort to pursue them, only staring from beneath their hood.

      For a moment their eyes met Rann’s and what he found caused that strange serpent paranoia to coil tight. Beneath their hood, in the light of the setting evening sun, Rann found a cold icy blue stare. The glance lasted for only a brief moment but that was all it took to burn the image into his mind. Haunting…

      Disappearing from their opponents sight, Rann made sure to get as far away as he thought necessary from the clearing. Driving as far down the first road he could find until pulling over to the side so he could tend to Jacques. Blood rushed into his fingers as he finally released the reins he’d been clutching so tightly to climb into the back.

      “Jacques?” Rann asked, crouching down next to his crumbled form on the floor. Creme had long since crawled out of one of her hiding spots and was curiously sniffing Jacques’ bloody hands.

      “I’m… I’m still here, Veilleuse.” Jacques said weakly. “Help me up?”

      “Yes! Yes of course!” Rann wrapped one of Jacques’ arms over his shoulder and helped him up. Together they limped over to the bench where Rann propped him up. “Have you tried to heal yourself yet?” Jacques smiled bitterly at Rann, reaching up to Rann’s face and swiping his thumb over the cheek that had split earlier. 

      “Can’t do a damn thing with magic right now.” Jacques grunted.       “Well, maybe it’s not too bad.” Rann grabbed the bottom of Jacques’ chest plate and began to lift it.

      “Oh ho ho! This is the first time in over two months you’ve tried to undress me.” Jacques laughed weakly.

      “Be serious!” Rann hissed and raised the armor over Jacques’ head. “I need to see how bad it is.” He threw the bloody piece to the side and began to unbutton his underarmor. It was so thoroughly soaked with blood there was no way Jacques wouldn’t need a new one.

      “Merde- Rann that hurts.” Rann continued to unbutton it before letting it fall to the wagon floor. There, Rann was greeted with a gaping wound in Jacques’ side and while not immediately fatal he was losing blood steadily.       “Jacques, this is bad.” Rann looked around the wagon for something he could use to try and stop the bleeding. “We don’t have any bandages so I don’t know-” He looked down at the long sleeves of his shirt. Immediately Rann ripped the length of the left sleeve free and began packing it into the wound. Sure it wasn’t as good as raw silk but it was better than nothing.

      “Rann, your shirt.” Jacques said, trying to stop him from pulling the other sleeve free. “You love your clothes.” 

      “I care for you more.” Rann replied, tearing the other sleeve free and wrapping it around Jacques’ torso to hold the first one in place. “Stay still and don’t you dare close your eyes you hear me? I’ll get us to the next town we can- We can find a healer!”

      “There’s no point.” Jacques grunted. “It can’t be just my magic that isn’t working and even if it was we don’t have enough time.”

      “So you’re going to die?” Rann’s throat grew tight as he said it and his vision began to blur. Of their time together he had wavered back and forth on his allegiance to Jacques but he didn’t want him dead. Not even after having discovered the coffin or grown suspect of his lies.

      “No! No, stay with me.” Rann watched as Jacques tried to stand but couldn’t especially with how much his legs wobbled. He cursed, sinking back into the bench. “I’ll be fine. We don’t have magic but medicine should still work.”

      “Right, but what medicine could possibly fix this?” Rann could already see blood starting to peek through on Jacques’ wound dressing. From the corner of Rann’s eye he could see Creme sneaking up to where he’d cast aside Jacques’ under armor to give it a sniff.

      “I keep a small stash of potions for emergencies. There should be one left.” Jacques pointed to one of the higher cabinets in the wagon. “Up… up there. Grab the- grab the red one. It should be a red one…”

      “Alright!” Rann rushed to the cabinet and felt around inside. His hand shook as his knuckles brushed against the surface of a single glass bottle. He grabbed at it, his fingers slipping and sending the bottle falling over before taking hold of it. He turned to return to Jacques’ side but Creme stood in his way.

      “Rann, now’s your chance.” Creme said softly before stretching her tiny body forwards and seating herself on the floor. “To get your answers?” 

      “What?” Rann’s hands shook, clutching tight to the potion in his hands. Creme stood up and rubbed herself on his left leg, circling around him to his right.

      “To get your answers from the brat? This might be your only chance.” She meowed softly. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

      “C-Creme?” Jacques wheezed. “What- what’s she say- saying? Putain! Since when… when could she speak?” Rann’s eyes stayed glued to the bottle in his hands while Creme continued to purr and push her head into his calves. 

      A long silence fell over the wagon while Rann was left paralyzed by choice.

      “Rann?” Jacques probed. “The potion? Please?”

      Rann pulled his gaze away from the potion clutched in his hands to meet Jacques’ pleading face. Everything felt as though it were screaming at him at once, a full blown civil war in his head and chest. 

      “You should save yourself first.” Creme purred. “This is your only chance. I only wish to help you.”

      “Jacques?” Rann’s mouth felt impossibly dry. His knuckles ached around the neck of the bottle. He placed the bottle on the counter next to himself and walked closer to Jacques “Why are we out here?”

      “What? I- Rann, for fuck’s sake!” Jacques cried. “I don’t have time for this! Give me the potion!”

      “No, you don’t have time to waste Jacques.” Rann crossed his arms crouching before him. “What are we doing out here? What is your mission?” His eyes flickered to the hollow trunk. “Why do you have that coffin?”

      “Rann, give me the potion. Now! That’s an order.” Jacques held out a bloody hand. “We can talk about this after.”

      “Can we? Or are you going to take this and ditch me on the side of the road? Worse, will I end up inside the coffin?” Rann took a step back. “I don’t take orders from liars.”

      “When would I have- It’s not meant for you if that’s what you’re asking!” Jacques shook his head. “Rann, I can assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now give me the fucking potion already!”

      “Then tell me who or what the hell the coffin is for Jacques!” Rann felt his throat growing tighter making it hard to stand his ground. “Please? Or I can’t help you. It’s been six years-”

      “EXACTLY! It’s been six years! I haven’t hurt you but I could have!” Jacques winced, Rann’s makeshift bandages becoming redder and redder. “Isn’t that enough time to trust me? To trust in what we are? Please! I’m dying here my, veilleuse.”

      “I-” Rann squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to give in and help Jacques. “No! No, I can’t! We’ve wandered around aimlessly for years and you haven’t told me anything! I’ve done nothing but blindly trust in you! I don’t even know who you are anymore! Perhaps I never did!” 

      “Rann you fucking useless piece of shit! Stop fucking around and give me the potion!” Shocked, Rann took a step back. “You moron! An idiotic plight on your people and for me! Give me the damn potion right now!” Jacques lurched forward and fell to his knees in front of the bench. Reaching towards Rann before slamming his fist into the cabin floor.

      “You think I’m an idiot?” Rann’s words were full of disbelief.

      “YES! A slacked jawed imbécile who's watching me die and doing nothing! Don’t you DARE let me die or I swear I’ll make you fucking regret it! I swear on-” Jacques bit his tongue, a hand over his mouth but it was already too late. “Rann, I didn’t mean that I just don’t-” But Rann held up his hand, he didn’t want to hear anymore

      “Swear to who? Who do you swear to? Who gives you the revolting ability to raise the dead? Who sent you on this mission to nowhere? Why am I here? Tell me and I’ll give you the potion.” Rann looked at the bottle then to Jacques. “Give me… something.”

      “I… I can’t.” Jacques whispered. “You just have to trust me.”

      “Well now I definitely can’t trust you.” Rann’s heart ached from the words Jacques had thrown at him. Things he’d told him in confidence, used like weapons. Jacques had thrown things like that at him several times in his frustration but never in such a hateful fashion. 

      “Please, Rann… Don’t… don’t let me die.” Jacques pleaded.

      “You’re the only one who will let you die.” Rann turned his back to Jacques. “I’m going to take a little walk and when I get back? Maybe then you’ll have changed your mind.” He took the potion off of the counter, slipping it into his pocket as he walked towards the front of the wagon. Creme le poof followed close behind him, leaping onto his shoulder to perch.

       “Rann?” Jacques called but he didn’t turn around. “Rann! Rann no please! Please… don’t go-” Jacques begging fell on deaf ears as Rann slipped out of the cart and walked a few paces away, the cries growing distant. “RANN!”

      “You’re going to let him die?” Creme asked as Rann leaned his back against a nearby tree, Jacques pleas still ringing off behind them. “I would, just for his wailing.”

      “Of course not! He’s still my best friend after all.” Rann closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree. He waited for a moment as Jacques’ cries turned to frustrated cussing. Rann’s hands began to itch from the blood drying to them. “But… I am growing rather weary of blindly trusting in him. I’m tired of… the act of faith.” Rann tapped his foot. “To my people… To Jacques… Even to… Rafiel.” Creme cocked her head at Rann, unable to understand the last phrase he spoke. “Don’t worry about it.” He told her. 

      “I hope he tells you what you deserve to know.” Creme purred. “If he lasts long enough.” Rann’s eyes flew open and he scowled at Creme.

      “I staunched the worst of the bleeding. We have time.” Rann huffed. “At least a couple minutes.”

      “Well it’s now awfully quiet for someone who ‘has time’  isn’t it? “ Rann’s heart dropped, realizing that Creme was right. It was now too quiet. “Look on the bright side! Now it’ll just be-” Creme wasn’t even given the chance to finish before Rann bolted for the wagon. 

      Hopping into the wagon Rann was greeted with the horrifying sight of Jacques sprawled across the wagon’s floor, his eyes shut and skin pale. Cussing heavily under his breath Rann rolled him onto his side, his skin already cold to the touch, where he saw his makeshift bandages were soaked scarlet red. It didn’t make sense! The bleeding should have stopped at least a little bit.

      “Jacques?” Rann shook his shoulder sharply. “Jacques come on. Come on you cannot be-” Rann choked, unable to say it. “Jacques!” Rann screamed while shaking him harder. “No no no- FUCK!” He rolled Jacques all the way onto his back and dug his knuckles into Jacque’s ribs. It was something he’d been taught to do to rouse even the most stubborn of comatose people or find anyone who was feigning death. 

       “JACQUES!” He screamed louder, his hands started to shake. He remembered the weight against his leg and fumbled for his pocket. He nearly ripped his pants with the force he yanked the potion from his pocket.

      “Rude! You left me before I finished.” Creme le Poof’s voice huffed from behind them but Rann didn’t turn to face her. His fingers stumbled anxiously around the cork of the bottle before finally pulling it free. 

      “I was going to say it’s going to be just you and me.” Rann forced the lip of the bottle past Jacques’ lips, the glass clinking against his front teeth. “Rann?” 

      Rann anxiously watched the level of the potion fall from the bottle. Hope began to blossom and horror began to overtake him as the liquid inside merely welled in his mouth to spill from the corner of his lips. 

      “Rann, are you even listening to me?” Creme hissed before silence overtook the wagon. They sat there for what felt like an eternity for Rann as he stared, praying that by some miracle Jacques would stir. “Well at least you have me. Right?”

      “Shut. Up.” Rann said slowly, his fingers tightening around the nearly empty potion. “Just… shut up.” He whispered. He heard Creme open her mouth to speak but instead she slunk out of the cart to leave him alone. For that, Rann was thankful.

      Rann sat as the sun fell, cradling Jacques head in his lap, praying he’d open his eyes. That somehow he was going to wake up and cuss him out for being stupid. That by some interference from the universe might bring him back. There was only one thing he could think to do but it never worked before.

      Rann pressed his forehead to Jacques’, the knot in his throat tightening more and more. “Rafiel… father of light. Stern and harsh as you are, I ask but one favor… please. If you are ever to do anything for me in this life then please save him.” Rann choked back a sob. “Please.. Please save his life. Bring him back.” He sank his teeth into his bottom lip. “Please… I can’t do it… I can’t save him myself.” Rann pulled Jacques close. “Please! I... bring him back… Take my life… take anything I have just please… please… bring him back… I… deserve his place. I… I waited…”

   As the late hour turned to night Rann began to realize that Jacques wouldn’t be waking up, not by his hand nor his prayer. His cheeks felt stiff from the sorrow that betrayed him and spilled down his face. He wouldn't be saving Jacques and the guilt weighed heavily in his soul.

      ‘Place him to rest in the coffin.’ The thought broke through the overwhelming silence in his head almost like it wasn't his own. He was too emotionally exhausted to care as he silently replaced Jacques’ armor and carried him to the back of the wagon. There he slowly opened the coffin and lowered Jacques into the velvet lining. Rann brushed the last raven strands from Jacques forehead and slowly closed the lid.

      Rann didn’t know where he was going to take Jacques body, he had never even told him where he’d come from, but he figured he could cart him to the next town and ask their clerics for advice. Or, he could go home to New Aengmor and lay him beneath his own homeland. 

      That thought felt nice. Rann could go home and sleep in his bed and live with his siblings. He could just go home and relax. Give up all of the nonsense he tried to force and therefore beg for forgiveness. A soft sensation against his fingers startled him and he looked down to see Creme butting her head against his fingers. She held between her teeth a small white flower cluster. 

      Rann didn’t know why but seeing the small gesture and the pale buds caused something in him to break. Everything inside him began to fracture and fall apart like a castle built of sand. Rann gathered Creme into his arms and squeezed her close as agony like he’d never felt before cut like knives through his being. His throat screamed raw with curses at the sky and at Rafiel. Exhaustion like he never before felt weighing down on him as if pressing the emotion from his very being and filling him with a familiar feeling of self hatred. 

      That night Rann fell asleep alone for the first time in six years. The floor next to the hollow bench was rough and cold but he didn’t care. In the throes of nightmares it only served to remind him that the worst… was yet to come.

Final Days Risen Post link (Part 1)

Final Days Lies Part 1 Post link (Part 2)

Final Days: Lies (Part 2)

      It was quite nice to hear the world sound so alive and he wondered, briefly, why he was so reluctant to get to know the world above. The colors were vibrant and the changing of day into night was breathtaking. He still recalled the first time Jacques had forced him to watch the sunset bathe the world in reds and golds before plunging the world into the darkness they both appreciated. The stars weren’t quite the same but Rann could be truly at peace during those times.

      “Rann. Danger.” Rann jumped from where he’d been sitting and quickly drew his sword. More elven? Was someone here? Had they been followed?

      “Who’s there? Reveal yourself immediately!” Rann shouted into the woods, turning around quickly while trying to see who the voice may belong to.

      “There. There!” The voice was coming from the wagon! In a flash, Rann had thrown himself at the wagon where he found only Creme le Poof sitting calmly in the center. Her tail swished back and forth while Rann earnestly searched.

      “I swear when I get my hands on you one of us will be dead and it won’t be me!” Rann cried then ducked his head beneath the wagon to see if the intruder was perhaps hiding beneath it. When he still found no sign of an intruder he lifted his head to meet Creme’s gaze. “I’m losing myself…” Rann muttered when the unthinkable happened. Creme opened her mouth and instead of a meow he was greeted by the stranger’s voice.

      “Rann. Dead. Yourself dead.” Creme said, causing Rann to shriek and fall back flat on his back. He kicked at the dirt, pushing himself back with his hand to try and put some distance between them. The young feline appeared to be incredibly unconcerned with her sudden development of speech and hopped out of the wagon to pad up towards Rann.

       “Creme! Stop!” Rann yelled, scrambling back further until his back hit a tree. Creme did not stop as she broke into a jog towards him. “Stay away!” He screamed but it was of no use as she closed the distance and all he thought to do was cover his eyes with his forearm to protect himself.

      “Rann.” Creme said sweetly before licking at the back of his hand. Her tongue was rough against his skin but didn’t hurt. Slowly he lowered his arm and looked down at her. She didn’t hold any kind of hostility in her frame but rather the opposite. She purred, rubbing herself up against his chin and butting her head against his fingers in a demand for scratches. “Rann! Rann love! Love Rann!” Creme babbled between purrs.

      “You can,” Rann shook his head, “You can speak elven?” He asked cautiously.

      “Rann talk! Talk Rann!” Creme replied then licked Rann’s nose. He sneezed and wiped away her kiss.

      “You were the one who called Jacques a brat?” Rann stroked the fur on her head softly. In all the years he spent on the surface there were still things that surprised him. “I can’t believe it.”

      “Jacques brat! Brat brat Jacques!” She said before placing both of her paws on Rann’s chest and shoving her nose right up to his. “Rann danger! Brat dead Rann! Jacques brat dead Rann!” Rann frowned at her, confused by the string of words she’d provided him.

      “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Creme. Maybe you could show me?” Creme nodded to him, an incredibly odd sight in his opinion, then scampered back towards the cart meowing loudly.

      “Show Rann! Show Rann!” Creme declared as she jumped back inside the cart and disappeared from view.

      “A cat that speaks elven.” Rann mused as he followed after her. “Suppose I’ll have to teach her how to speak fluently.” 

      Climbing back in the cart, Rann was greeted with the sight of Creme rubbing herself up against the back bench and pacing in circles. Upon seeing him she resumed yowling and began to claw at the wood. She jumped up on top of the bench and back down again several times while being very vocal. 

      So she was just scared of the bench? Rann supposed that made sense and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He’d just have to show her it wasn’t dangerous just like the time Jacques had dropped a length of rope inside the cart. The poor thing wouldn’t go inside of the wagon for the longest time until Rann taught her to play with it.

      “It’s just a bench, Creme.” Rann walked over and sat down on the plush top. He patted the empty space beside him for Creme to join him. “Bench. This is just a bench, it can't hurt anyone.” Still, Creme refused to calm down and kept crying out. Pacing back and forth while rubbing her head against the lip of the bench top.

      “Danger! Danger Rann!” Creme insisted, jumping up and down again and again. Rann could only stare at her in his bewilderment.

      “Come on, Creme. I don’t wish to play this game anymore.” Rann grumbled and stood up. “Be afraid of the bench then. Can’t believe I trusted a cat to know what poses danger to a person.” Sighing, Rann began to walk away to set the firepit until a sharp pain erupted from the edge of his hand. Rann cried out to find Creme’s mouth around his hand as she roughly pulled him down and back towards the bench.

      “OW! Creme, that's enough! Stop it right now!” Rann scolded but fell to his knees. He felt her pull again but this time his knuckles hit the underside of the bench where she finally released him. Tiny beads of blood pooled in the small punctures where her teeth had been but more importantly he thought he had felt the top of the bench move upward. He gave Creme a look to find her staring back at him. He turned his gaze back to the bench to see the top was slightly elevated with a hidden space beneath it. 

      Rann stared at the void for a moment, his knuckle against his teeth as he weighed his options. The tension of the coiling serpent paranoia began to tighten again in his gut. It could just be some extra storage space that Jacques had neglected to mention. Maybe something had gotten into the wagon that would harm them left unnoticed? If he closed the lid now then he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. Then again he doubted he’d ever be able to sleep if what Creme said about ‘danger’ was true. Although, he didn’t want to pry into Jacques' items considering things had finally found a sense of normal between them.

      The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as the skin of his knuckle split between his teeth.

      “Fuck it. Rafiel, guide me.” Rann grabbed an oil lantern, lit it, then threw open the bench. At first Rann couldn’t quite make out anything, but when he lifted the lantern to get a proper look at the inside his heart dropped to the deepest part of his gut. His blood ran cold and he felt as though the whole world had gone quiet. The only sound he could hear were the purrs of Creme le Poof and his own breath heavy in his ears. Millions of needles felt as though they were being driven deep into his back.

      Sitting inside the bench was a coffin, but not just any coffin. Laying in the lamplight was the most ornate coffin Rann had ever seen. The box was made from a deep red wood that was nearly black. Its surface, littered with jewels and precious embellishments, was carved with gold writing in a language he didn’t know. Radiating from it was a presence Rann could only describe as malevolent.

      Rann’s mouth was dry and he felt as though his fingers might snap without how tightly he’d fitted his fist around the handle on his lantern. He turned his head to look at Creme le poof who merely swished her tail back and forth with her blank stare.

      “You don’t think…” Rann trailed off then gazed back at the coffin. “He wouldn't do that to me, would he?” He asked softly. It was practically impossible that Jacques would do something like that to him, right? With all he’d been teaching and showing him it couldn’t all be a trick. 

      ‘... I need you alive and well.” The words slashed like a hot whip across Rann’s psyche. Surely Jacques only meant that he wished for Rann’s safety because he was his truest companion. Then again the years of secrecy and veiled truths were beginning to make a lot of sense. All Rann had been told was that they were headed to some temple Jacques didn’t know the location of for something important. He knew nothing of who Jacques worshipped nor his values.

      To Rann, there was only one more thing that could solidify the theory in his mind as he reached forward and placed a hand on the lid of the coffin. He sank his teeth into his lip and he stilled his breath in his chest. As the last rays of the day sank below the horizon he hefted the lid up to gaze inside. It was just as Rann had feared. The interior, lined in crushed wine red velvet, was empty leaving just enough room to house the sacrificial corpse of an unsuspecting shadowelf.

      “Rann Dead! Rann Dead!” Creme le poof chanted as she pranced around in little circles behind Rann. “Jacques dead Rann.”

      “Rann,” Rann swallowed thickly, he was going to be sick, “dead.”

      “Oh Rann!” Jacques' voice sang from the side of the wagon. Rann snapped the lid to the coffin shut and extinguished the lantern quickly. He quickly scooped Creme into his arms and plopped down on the bench he’d opened.

      “In here!” Rann called, trying to steady his breath and chase the fear from his voice.

      “You didn’t fall asleep on me did you? Worst guard ever!” Jacques teased as he came into view from the front to the wagon and climbed inside. Rann grew stiff as he came closer, squeezing Creme tight enough she squeaked. Jacques threw down his bag and began to rifle through it.“You’ll never believe what I found in town! While I was shopping I found lavender and thistle scented soap! Your favorite, I remembered, so I bought a few bars and- pardon, what’s wrong?” Jacques gave pause. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

      Rann would have to be very careful with what he said next as he’d never been too good at lying, even with his life on the line. It was becoming increasingly clear that if he fumbled this conversation with Jacques, he’d, at best, be ditched on the side of the road to fend for himself—or, as he feared, be slain on the spot.

      “I did see something that gave me a fight but nothing that will harm us now.” Rann released Creme from his grip to which the young cat clumsily fell to the floor seeking the frayed end of a rope.

      “Well I am relieved. Here, take this and let's meet down by the river.” Jacques said then flung a bar of soap to Rann. He caught it in both hands and watched as Jacques gathered their towels and hopped out of the wagon, a grin of delight spread across his tattooed cheeks. 

      Rann lifted the soap to his nose and gave it a deep sniff. It was just as Jacques said, lavender and thistle. The weight of the item grew heavy in his hand as he let his wrist fall against his thigh. It wasn’t a cheap gift, nothing that Jacques had offered him in their time together was. Each time he’d taken it with glee whether it be a glass trinket or colorful silk. Rann realized he was becoming no better than his kin and was selling himself for luxuries. He wished to hurl the soap right back in Jacques’ face for his lies and secrecy.

      “You coming?” Jacques’ called. “The water will grow cold if you don’t hurry!” Rann gripped the bar tight in his fist and rose from the bench. He was determined to figure out Jacques’ mission now and would get the answers he sought or kill him trying. Afterall, Rann could only ever truly trust a member of his own and the Shadar-Kai do not cower.

      “I’m coming!” Rann answered, making sure to slip a hidden dagger into the hem of his pants. He wouldn’t be caught unarmed or under armored again.

Final Days Risen Post link (Part 1)

Final Days: Lies (Part 1)

      Time passed between them and though Rann had slowly learned to trust Jacques again over the months, there was still an unspoken tension coiling between them. Rann was very aware of the feeling growing more and more strained but rather than confront it he would rather anxiously await its snapping.

      Rann wished he could take comfort in the quiet calm between them as he used to. He ached to once again take comfort in the sound of hooves on stone and the drone of their wagon’s wheels.

      “We’ll be passing by another small settlement here shortly. I know we’ve run dry our water skins but what else should we restock?” Jacques asked while passing the reins over to Rann.

      “Mushrooms. Wine. Dry rations,” Rann paused and gave the air a tentative sniff, “soap? You smell.”

      “Oi, you’re not pleasantly fragrant either.” Jacques scoffed.

      “Only because we don’t have soap.” Rann smirked. “I never said you were odious, I was merely making suggestions as to what I observed.”

      “Riiiiiiiiight because you’re known to be only noble in your intentions.” Jacques laughed, wrapping his arm and pulling Rann in close. The scent of two days of travel grew heavy in Rann’s nose to which he twisted his face away. “Tell me my petite veilleuse, do you truly find me so repugnant?”

      “Yes! Asshole!” Rann squealed while twisting in Jacques’ grip as he tried to hold his nose. Jacques only smiled and grabbed Rann’s wrists, tearing down his defense.

      “Oh how you wound me!” Jacques cried dramatically while pushing Rann’s face into his chest, forcing him to hold his breath. “I swear upon the very night itself and all its deserved reverence, I shall rectify the situation immediately!” Rann weakly slammed his fists into either side of Jacques’ ribs as his lungs began to burn for lack of air. “Don’t worry my dear friend, you shall not spend much longer with me unbathed.” Rann gasped for air, coughing as Jacques finally released him from the rancid prison of his stench.

      “Fucking disgusting! It’s like I had never left the military.” Rann shoved Jacques chest only causing him to laugh harder. “You find yourself to be so funny. Just you wait until I find a way to make you regret it!”

      “Well, I will make sure to purchase plenty of soap so you won’t have the chance.” Jacques replied then leaned back in the driver’s seat. Just before Rann could reply back to him, a soft meow came from the wagon behind them. A blinding flash of spotted fur leapt between the two of them, turning around to reveal itself to be a very unhappy Creme le poof. She put her front paws against Rann’s chest and gave his face a few sniffs before hissing at Jacques.

      “See? Even Creme agrees.” Rann said, scratching her between her ears.

      “She’s biased.” Jacques huffed but reached out to scratch her head anyway. “She’ll be a good life long companion for you. Well, for the next fifty odd years or so if you take good care of her.” Creme swiped her paws at Jacques’ hand and sank further into Rann’s lap.

       “Only fifty years?” Rann squeezed her close, looking down into her pale blue eyes. A soft and quizzical ‘murp’ “I knew the lives of others were short compared to that of us elves but I had no idea…” Rann trailed off and looked up to Jacques, measuring over his features carefully. Has he always had that wrinkle on his forehead? The ones next to his eyes?

      Jacques turned his gaze to meet Rann’s and he smiled so softly in that way he always found charming.

      “Oh come now! You mustn’t despair like that, my veilleuse, we were just having fun!” Jacques pulled the reins to stop their wagon then scooted closer to Rann, despite Creme’s soft protests. “I can promise that as long as you and I both draw breath,” Rann smiled as Jacques put a hand on his cheek and leaned in close, “we shall remain entirely devoted to one another.” Jacques’ lips gently brushed up against Rann’s and the burden of worry quickly hefted from his shoulders. 

      Rann could feel the tension between them relaxing quickly, making him wonder whatever he was so worried about. He felt a deep sincere love for the human before him and they cared for each other. No matter the ailment.

      Rann could even go as far to say that he may love Jacques.

       Creme yowled loudly, ramming her head into the side of Jacques’ face, cutting their moment of comfort far too short while Jacques reeled back. The two cussed loudly as Jacques clutched his sore jaw. She then quickly turned to try and rub her face against Rann’s mouth while purring.

      “By the immortals, Creme!” Rann snapped and pushed her aside to see to Jacques’ cheek. “You’re so needy!” He added pulling Jacques hand away to find a purple welt forming and hissed in sympathy. “You’re bruised.”

      “I’m alright! I am quite alright.” Jacques pushed Rann’s hands away and drew in breath between his teeth, a sign Rann recognised that he was frustrated. “We now must add mixed herbs to the list. For the next time our feline friend decides to act like a brat.” Jacques retook the reins into his hands and commanded the horses to resume their trot towards the settlement. 

      A very soft and squeaky sound echoed from behind them. To Rann it sounded almost like a voice. While Jacques didn’t appear to notice Rann listened to see if he could hear it again.

      “Brat!” The voice was coming from the back of their wagon! Rann quickly turned his head, reaching for the longsword at his hip, to find nothing. Nothing aside from Creme Le Poof laying down and glaring daggers into the back of Jacques’ head.

      “Something the matter?” Jacques’ asked , his eyes remaining on the road.

      “I thought I had heard someone speaking.” Rann muttered. “In elven no less. Shadow elven.”

      “Truely?” Jacques turned to look back into the wagon as well though when he appeared to have seen nothing more than Creme he shrugged. “I cannot see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe you're missing home again?”

      “Possibly.” Rann replied before settling himself once more.

       The two of them chatted back and forth whilst the carriage marched faithfully forward. Upon closing the gap between themselves and the settlement, Jacques parked their wagon just a little ways off into the woods. It was well into the evening so Rann immediately hopped out of the wagon and began to detach the horses to allow them to graze.

      “I shouldn’t be too long. I am merely going to shop then I will be right back. You know the drill.” Jacques stepped out of the back of the wagon wearing a thick black cloak with the hood drawn over his head. 

      “Guard the wagon with my life and if it looks as though my life may be forfeit, run to you as fast as I can.”

      “There’s a good soldier.” Jacques pulled Rann in close then planted a kiss on the corner of Rann’s lips. “Please don’t place yourself in any unnecessary danger, alright? I need you alive and well, ma veilleuse.”

      “In that case why don’t we purchase a night in an inn for a night?” Rann was hopeful but the look on Jacques face betrayed his friend’s thoughts. “Just for one night could we sleep in real beds?”

      “You know I dare not let the wagon out of my sight.” Rann slumped a little. He liked the road plenty and there was much fun to be had in the wilderness. Rather unfortunately, after years of travel together, he ached for the comforts of a bed and his spider silk sheets.       “I am aware.” Rann said calmly and he watched Jacques’ expression twist into one of sympathy. He wrapped an arm around Rann’s shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze.

      “How about this? I promise that once I have completed this journey I will pay for the nicest, richest, treatment for the both of us to share. I’ll have us dressed in the finest silks and we shall have ourselves a party! Just you and me.” Rann wrapped his arms around Jacques’ neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.

      “You know I don’t care for riches. They’re corruptible. I sincerely need only you and the road. A night on a proper mattress doesn’t hurt though.” Rann let his arms fall from Jacques’ neck and smirked. “But you know something?”

      “Hmm?”

      “You still reek.” Rann yanked Jacques’ hood down to his chin then pushed away from him. “So I suggest you get yourself to the market. While you’re there, why don’t you fetch me an ale or two.”

      “You are so amusing. It’s a wonder your family never sold you to your king's court as the fool.” Jacques rolled his eyes at Rann and readjusted his cloak. “Fair thee well.” 

      Rann watched as Jacques disappeared through the trees leaving him to listen to the last songs of the day by his lonesome.

The Final Days: Risen

   “No.” Rann’s response to Jacques was curt as he shoved his friend's hand from his shoulder. Paranoia, the ugly serpent of a sensation it was, wound tightly in his gut leaving him sick. The very skin Jacques’ touch often brought comfort to, prickling in disgust.

   “By the great lady- what has gotten into you lately?” Jacques sighed letting his hand fall back against his side. “Years of travel and we’ve been the best of companions and now you refuse to even meet my gaze.”

   “I wasn’t aware I was required to give you an explanation of all my thoughts whilst in your service whenever you command it!” Rann spat back while his eyes remained on the toes of his boots. “Allow me, your oh great and powerful Jacques Robiquet, to expound upon the simple concept of leaving one to their lonesome.”

      “Suit yourself. If you want to be left alone then I shall happily be obliged.” Rann listened as Jacques turned heel, likely to head back to the wagon, while muttering ‘can’t get a word through to you when you’re like this’.

      When Rann was sure Jacques had long since left earshot he brought his shaking hands up to his face and raked his fingertips down to his chin. Whatever was he going to do now? Six years he’d been nothing short of attached to Jacques’ hip as his sole confidant on the road. How was it in all those years he’d never once seen Jacques do as he’d done that day.

      Rann began to pace back and forth upon the river bank, the knuckle of his forefinger resting between his lips and against his teeth as he went.

      Rann should’ve known better than to just trust in some human man. Sure he’d saved his life and taught him much about the world he did not yet understand. Everything from how to protect oneself from the sun and appreciating the night to the very rules of the road. But to raise an army of the dead to fight off bandits and effectively steal life itself for his purpose? A diabolical and absolutely unforgivable act.

. .·:¨༺❦༻¨:·. .

      It was well after sunset when Rann finally found it in himself to return to their shared campsite. It was nothing special, merely a few paces off the worn path they’d been traveling into the wood. As he walked, it felt as though each step were taking him closer to his doom. Crouched next to a makeshift campfire pit was Jacques stroking the spotted fur of their cat, Creme le Poof. 

      Creme was purring rather vociferously but quickly leapt from Jacques gasp to meet Rann. She meowed loudly to which Rann felt the corner of his mouth twitch towards a grin. Creme had proclaimed many times her affection for her humans but Rann was by far her favorite. To answer her demands, Rann crouched himself and allowed the young cat to scamper her way up onto his shoulder to receive chin scratches.

    “You’re growing to become quite the spoiled little tyrant.” Rann murmured before silently stilling himself to take his usual place next to Jacques.

      “I think the word you are looking for is ‘brat’.” Jacques smirked while reaching out towards Creme but stopped when Rann flinched away from his touch. Rann’s eyes caught a flicker of hurt in Jacques’ expression before he turned his attention back to the firepit. “I uh… waited for you to return before I lit it. I know it’s your favorite part of the evening.”

      Rann couldn’t argue, he did love it when Jacques would light the firepit to prepare their dinner. When he didn’t agree or disagree though, Jacques proceeded in the normal fashion. He moved his right arm up then quickly extended it while snapping his fingers. As usual, a ball of light was produced just before his fingers which darted through the air before colliding with the wood in the pit and it ignited immediately. 

      For the first time though, as the flames licked towards the night sky and warmed Rann’s cheeks, the show wasn’t soothing. The display of power, of magic being so easily spent, only served to remind him of how alarmingly powerful the man was. He could just as easily be in the place of the wood at Jacques whim. Rann buried his face into the silky soft fur of Creme’s tail.

      “I’m sorry if I upset you earlier.” Rann perked his head up to find Jacques staring into the flames while a hand rested against his chin. “I only wished to know if you were well. You seemed quite shaken after our fight earlier today.”

      The image of a legion of putrid corpses shedding rotting flesh from their shambling bones flashed across Rann’s mind. At their helm stood Jacques, eyes glowing green, mid chant while clutching a bloody mace in one hand while the other was held outstretched before him. Their unified moans of what he could only guess to be the agony of trapped souls awoken from defiled graves. It was the very first time Rann had ever fled in fear from a fight.

      “I am fine.” Rann replied, his usual warmth towards Jacques gone. While he remained calm outwardly though, his mind raced.

      “I-” Jacques began but when Rann turned towards him with a look of disinterest he stopped and cleared his throat. “If you say you are fine then I am inclined to believe you are.”

      “Thank you.” Rann spoke calmly and resumed petting Creme. Silence hung heavy in the air between them as the cool night breeze carried away even the sounds of the cat’s purrs. Just when Rann thought he wouldn’t be able to stand the quiet much longer Jacques rose from his position by his side to dust his lap off.

      “I guess I should go and prepare our supper then.” Jacques patted Rann’s shoulder sending shockwaves of panic and discomfort through his body. “Keep an eye on the fire if you could? Feed her more kindling if she gets too low.”