(Hey y'all! This is Part 2 of The Turning, I did indeed let it be a series. As always, if this ever gets too much for you in any way, shape, or form, do see yourself to not reading it. Thank you, and hope you enjoy!)
Lathlaeril's heart seemed to skip a beat with the man's words, skin paling even more. His eyes glossed over, he felt as if he couldn't move, he wanted to disappear, he wanted to escape. The sweat at his forehead from before had returned once more, but more heavier. His eyes squeezed shut once more, a small terrified yelp escaping his throat, but it was choked, "Velethuil! Please! My Elder, you have to forgive me! Please do not do this to your poor Grandson! I am still not ready!" Lath cried out, the grip on his shoulder still there. His voice was nothing but pleading, he truly wasn't ready for whatever was going to happen next, vulnerable as some may say.
"You've had time to prepare, years in fact. You're becoming a disgrace to this family, no one will let you break tradition, so give up with these excuses, boy!" Velethuil would've snarled, an animalistic growl being heard from the tall Kathar's throat. His dark crimson eyes, staring right into Lathlaeril's own blue eyes, fangs shown in a pure intimidating manner. The grip only seemingly to tighten on his shoulder, while pressing weight against that side of Lathlaeril's body in a guidance toward the chair that set bolted to the floor.
His own body seemed to have a weight on him, his vision becoming fuzzy almost. He tried planting his right foot forwards when he was two feet away from the chair, attempting to halt himself from getting closer. Unfortunately, it was no use! Velethuil only pushed him harder, which made him lose footing and stumble forth closer to the chair, ending up right next to it. He instantly turned, trying to grab onto his Grandfather's shoulders/upper arms in a desperate manner, pleading out, "Please! Do not make me do this!"
Velethuil didn't seem to budge at all with Lathlaeril's pleads of escape, pushing him into the chair which made his eyes widen. Lath put his arms close to himself, mainly his wrists against his chest as he curled his legs to the side. His glossed gaze moved between each restraint on the chair, two on each of the armrests to restrain his wrists and forearms. Another two down below further at the chair to restrain his legs. With his hopeless attempts to keep himself from being restrained, it soon happened. His own mother, Malruthiia had to come forth to grab his arms and pry them from his own chest and help Velethuil restrain him. It was hard to do so, but not impossible, and the two relatives succeeded after a good five minutes!
Lathlaeril screamed out, throwing his head back and against the headrest, teeth going back to their tightened grit state, speaking through it, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Regardless of the fact his wrists were bound against the armrests of the chair, he managed to curl his hands inwards in fists, muscles tensing, claws threatening to cut into his palms from overwhelming fear.
No one seemed to answer him, all complete silence from voices except the usual pitter patter of footsteps being heard around him along the sides near the benches of relatives entering and sitting down. Hot tears finally left his eyes to stream down his cheeks, holding back a sob. From then on, he felt utterly hopeless, defeated. The fear seemed to engulf his body entirely as he had no chance or way of escaping his turn in the Vampirism Turning Ceremony. His mouth opened to speak once more, only for Velethuil to cut him off- "Welcome, my fine relatives, to yet another Turning! As you all know, unfortunately, our boy Lathlaeril is up next, and this time will not disappoint! This will be the Turning you've all been waiting for with the boy! - Malruthiia, my dear daughter, do grab the cups."
He gulped with the the second statement, the cups. Cups of blood, each bloodline, where he would have to choose from.
Malruthiia nodded, turning to head off to one of the back corners behind Lath's chair to take up a big container, opening it and taking out cups, all labeled of each bloodline. There was Von Kerle, Shilot, Alais, you name it, it was in that container.- Of course, no Crimson Witch blood there, and the like that you couldn't truly get infected by. The Kathar woman turned back with the cups, placing them before Lathlaeril on the table, taking three trips total back and forth in order to collect all the cups. Right after all was set, she turned to one of the sidelines where Lath guessed where his siblings were to sit down there.
Once Velethuil was satisfied with the display and watched Malruthiia take a seat, he went to stand right next to Lathlaeril's side, the right of him, in fact, speaking out, "Now! You know how this all works, the candidate of their turn has to pick between the cups of blood to ensure what bloodline they possess! We do cups, because a bite does not give 100% infection possibility, blood consuming does!-" Velethuil turned to Lath right after he was done speaking, gazing over the feared boy, "Choose wisely, boy. You only get one chance, once you consume the blood of the bloodline you choose, you're stuck with it, forever."
This was it, his Turning. Nothing but disbelief filled his mind, Lath couldn't believe this truly was happening. He didn't want it to happen, he didn't want to turn, too scared of what comes next. The eyes watching him, despite not being able to truly see them himself, he knew they were there. All the pressure and tense atmosphere was indeed present, and he knew it. His gaze soon trailed along the cups of blood, the labels. He thought and thought, unsure of what to say, choose, or anything of the like, at a loss for words.
"You got this Lath! It's going to be okay!" One of his sisters called out from where his mother, Malruthiia, had went. It was Selussa who encouraged him.
Lathlaeril took in a deep, but shallowed breath. Her voice seemed to soothe him despite the situation, before he himself speaking, eyes no longer glossy after a few more seconds, looking to Velethuil for the final choice, "Von Kerle, I choose Von Kerle."
Everyone seemed to gasp, a final decision was made! It almost was like no one expected an answer to be spoken. Velethuil looked surprised himself, but extremely pleased. A devilish smirk making way to the Grandfather's features, taking up the Von Kerle blood before speaking out, "The boy as spoken! We have an answer!" He cried out in a prideful manner.
(Note: There is actually two parts to 'The Crimson Lock', so no worries. In Part Two, it'll make some sense as to why it's labeled as what it is. So, stayed tune! And I hope you enjoyed this!)
