It was quite a normal day within the Dread Isles for Lathlaeril, simply helping around the big house his family had owned. They weren't rich but they had some wealth in certain matters, just because everyone worked. If anything, it was a bit... boring, that day.
One of Lathlaeril's little sister's were running around, Naevys, who was doing all sorts of jibberish that Lath didn't understand. He finally put down the rag to look her way, "What are you even saying? It's almost like you have something shoved in your mouth."
"Did you forget!? It's your turn, Lathlaeril! Today is the day!" Naevys exclaimed, though she turned to run off to the back room, their parents room specifically.
If anything, Lath was a bit confused by 'your turn'. Your turn for what? He simply squinted, watching her run off. He had an idea, but thought he was not ready. He couldn't help but grip the counter a bit, it's cold but smooth granite surface under his fingertips. His light blue eyes staring out the window before him, just over the sink, staring out into the neighborhood before him as he watched people walk by, "It can't be my turn.. not yet. I'm still unsure.." He whispered to himself, swallowing hard. It was like a big rock was sat upon his chest then, preventing him from taking a good enough breath to get true oxygen in his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head downwards with a shake of his head.
"Lath? You good, man?" Luthais would've spoken, Lath's brother.
He quickly glanced upwards, trying to act normal as he took in a deep heaved breath, quickly spinning on his heel to face right at his twin brother, only offering a nod. If anything, he couldn't risk telling someone he wasn't ready /again/. Last time he said it, barely anyone spoke to him for days because of the disappointment, "Yeah.. sure- I mean- I'm perfectly fine. Just- tired. You know how it is nowadays."
"I understand, it's been a bit of a rough week for myself but hey! It's finally your turn, /again/. Lath, you have to stop buying time, you always say you're not ready, when you should be. We've had this conversation a million times already.. it's tradition, you can't break it, Lathlaeril."
His palms started to sweat, whenever used his full name, it usually meant- especially by his brother or an older relative- that he was in trouble. Jaw tightening, teeth gritting. He knew Luthais was right, but what had gotten into him? What if he did break tradition? Who knew, "Alright, alright. I understand."
Luthais only nodded, though a mixture of disappointment, anger, and worry washed upon his features. He didn't say a word, simply turning to move for out of the house.
Lath felt like he could breathe again, the weight seemingly to loosen a bit on his chest. His right hand raised to merely run his fingers through his hair, but he felt some sweat drip down his forehead. He was, let alone, confused with the sweat but didn't question it. Despite Luthais already have left for whatever apparent reason, it seemed the time the event for Lath was happening very, very soon.
Before long, he decided to move for his parents bedroom to walk in. The room was nothing special, a simple two person bed with a night-stand, a black lamp shade on a mere light-bulb to light up the room a tad. A dresser sat to the right of him when he had walked in as a mirror was right in front of him, hooked to the wall. It was just that, only that. He squinted, looking in the mirror at his own reflection. His dark ash-like grey skin was a bit lighter than normal, almost in a paled manner for a Kathar. He wasn't surprised, wearing his usual blue and white colored robes with a inked black strap that went around his waist. His lips pursed into a thin line while examining his facial features, clean smooth skin, pure white hair in a ponytail. Yeesh, he did look feminine. Oh well! He turned, just to see the wall next to the nightstand with yet another squint, stepping over to it to feel against it's rough texture. Before one of the tips of his claws nicked onto a very small crack in the wall. Bingo!
His claw curled, digging into the texture more to get deeper into the small crack to have a grasp at it despite having to be real careful not to loose said opening. Lathlaeril slowly opened it to peer into the small entryway, only to have to duck down in and get onto his stomach to start crawling. It barely took long at all before he entered the room, already getting the chills.
The small entrance was cleaned, the room was decently big. Benches around the area against the walls, and in the middle of the room sat a table with a chair bolted to the ground. That anxious feeling and the weight had set upon him once more with the scene, but yet, there was nothing on the table. Hot tears seemed to fill his eyes, tears of fear, absolute fear. Even though there was nothing on the table, he knew exactly what would be there. Blood. Cups of blood, for him to choose from.
Lathlaeril couldn't stand there a second longer, his legs were already getting a bit wobbly, almost feeling like rubber. It was almost as if he lost feeling in some of his limbs, too caught up with the anxiety he felt. Merely shaking his head, he quickly turned only to bump into something, letting out a 'hmnp-' sound with the sudden collision. Not even a second after, a clawed hand grasped onto his shoulder, which made his eyes widen. The grip was tight, firm, and nothing but making him keep stiff in place. He couldn't stand the feeling any longer, slowly glancing up with teeth grit, only to realize who it was..
"Seems you were too slow to run this time, boy. It's your day.. Let the turning commence!"
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