The short surge of the storm hadn't been expected. His magic had unleashed a little stronger than intended. However, no one was harmed, it seemed. The thunder did not hurt his ears, and it was just pure rapture that filled him. Cersie moaned and trembled as he felt Iseulith's release within him. There was nothing coherent within him. He felt like a doll, the strings in Iseulith's hands. At least in this very moment. Not that he could complain; he clung to the sensation with every fiber in his being. It was a chore to even return the kiss. He did his best, a hand even raising to carress Iseulith's face weekly. When he was laid down, Cersie hardly moved, though his legs stayed twined with Iseulith's for now. He was utterly enthralled in the other. Cersie didn't even react to the soaking wet bed, not right now. Hell he didn't even notice the weakness in Iseulith's arms.<br/><br/>It was like he was floating on a lake, or in the skies themselves. His eyes were glassed over, his breathing shallow. He felt weak, yet powerful at the same time. What was happening to him? When Iseulith spoke, his eyes flitted to his. Cersie's tongue felt tied, his lips quirked at his words. Powerful indeed. Iseulith hadn't even seen his truest form. He'd seen the hawk, but there was still more that had yet to be witnessed. He swallowed a few times, then finally tried to move. His legs slid along Iseulith's, and he raised his hands to curl through Iseulith's silken locks. Everything felt electrified, every touch magnified tenfold. Cersie's heart was thrumming inside his chest, trying to pump out the blood that had been stolen from him.<br/><br/>The wind gusted again, a wild torrent that swirled around them both. The moisture was sucked out of the fabric, and the bed gradually lifted off of the floor. Cersie's own eyes were glowing, and he leaned up to kiss him again. It was wild, passionate, a silent thanks. When he pulled away, Isuelith touched the marks on his neck, sending a twinge of pleasure and pain through him. His eyes fluttered and he reached up to touch the bite marks. The wind continued to swirl around them, healing Cersie. He didn't have to be in the skies to heal, as long as he had access to the currents outside of the confines of the place. He just got a stronger and swifter healing if he did leave. But no matter how hard he tried, the scar would not dissipate. The holes had sealed over, but the mark remained.<br/><br/>Cersie slowly came out of his high, listening to Iseulith speak without interrupted. "You're terrifying and powerful yourself," he finally uttered. "Like a black mamba." He realized one of his hands hadn't healed, and he didn't respond to his other comments for several long moments. Moments spent on using the wind and Iseulith's blood to heal the scars on his other hand. He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. His breath came out hoarsely, trying not to scream at the agony of his skin splitting open, the dead scar tissue sloughing off before his hand re-knitted itself. "I thought that it was a fluke that my other hand healed," he breathed. He was exhausted. Cersie blinked. He could sense them. He had never sensed the other two before. Cersie's head turned to the door, then he noticed how wrecked the room was.<br/><br/>"I think it would be a rather obvious statement if I were to say that it looks like a storm blew through this room," he said, the pain having faded. Cersie oddly didn't want Iseulith to worry about him, though he wondered if he even could. He also found it odd that he could sense the familiars outside of the room. It must be Iseulith's blood in his system. Cersie shook his head lightly. "I'm likely going to leave at daybreak." His lips quirked again, his voice soft and filled with weariness. "I don't have any interest in dealing with a witch, and I don't know how to really interact with your familiars." He wondered if Cixathe had found his gift, though he was too placid to comment. Once his blood had been replenished, which wasn't something that would take a long amount of time, the wind elemental moved to sit up, bringing Iseulith with him. "Want to take a bath with me?" he asked.<br/><br/>It was odd, this desire to be around him. His distrust and wariness around the other had dimmed down, or so it was how he felt. Though he couldn't help but wonder if it was partly to do with the fact that Iseulith was coming to understand just how powerful and dangerous Cersie could be if he was crossed or threatened. He didn't know or fully comprehend what the vampire had done to him, even if he was perturbed that the marks on his neck hadn't healed. It was a question for another time, he figured. Cersie shifted to move to stand, if Iseulith let him. He wanted to stretch, even if he was covered in his own seed and Iseulith's cum slid down his thighs from his hole.<br/><br/>Cersie turned and frowned at him lightly, confusion in his features. He still felt groggy, and a bath was on the forefront of his mind. But still..."I will, yes. I just don't understand why you're doing this for me." Why Iseulith had done the things they had done. They still barely knew each other and this was only their second night together. It was all too much, too fast. What did Iseulith want from him? Questions started rearing, filling Cersie with uncertainty and confusion, warring against the trust that had built too quickly for the elder vampire. A creature that had taken control over his mind their first meeting and then paralyzed him, however temporarily, during their second. And yet now it didn't bother him in the slightest. On the contrary he felt some slightest understanding as to why he'd done the things he'd done. Except for this. These preparations. This traveling arrangement. "And I suppose I feel alright. Confused, mostly." And yet the thoughts were whirling too quickly in his mind, causing a slight headache.<br/><br/>An urge to leave nearly overwhelmed, gazing up at the sky in contemplation. He usually ran, if he could, from these situations. He didn't understand a lot of things it was embarrassing and all too consuming. "I should go," he said, the wind curling around him, feeling trapped. Cersie looked at Iseulith, unsure why he was even feeling this way. Another urge to curl against the other, to be as close to him as possible, came over him and he made a sound of frustration. The elemental pressed a newly healed palm against his temple and took several breaths to try to calm his jumbled mind.