Through seemingly endless halls and down two separate spiraling staircases they moved deeper and deeper still, descending into the bowels of the dimensionally displaced castle. Iseulith could feel the discomfort emanating from the elementals’s body with each step. He did not know how to comfort such a condition. It was perhaps better to let it play out naturally. Instead of the usual silent walk down to the mausoleum, the ancient sought to distract Cersie with stories of the assorted art in his possession. It graced every hall they passed. Busts made of bronze or marble or even iron. Suits of both gleaming and weathered armor, all manner of weapons and shields. Great paintings framed with gold filigree and image laden tapestries in varying states of age, some frozen by magic so that their degradation ceased when they became too old to display. Each had a memory attached, a reminder of some thing or another. Iseulith was fond of the more creative pieces. Many were made by his vampire kin or through the sorcery of witchcraft but many of them were human relics as well. The mortals had their purposes other than fodder. As a whole they were detestable, but every few thousand provided something interesting to gain. This was especially so with the artistic types to which he was drawn. If he were to have Sired, it would have been for the sake of beauty. To preserve something unique for a thousand millennia.<br/><br/><br/>That time was long passed. Not that it wouldn’t have been possible for him to do. At his age he would have boasted powerful children. In truth, he simply had no desire to. There was so little that interested him now that he had taken to hiding within his world of past ages. Were it possible to rewind time without breaking the fetters of the universe he would gladly have sacrificed everything to do so. Though, if he could not go back, perhaps it was possible to restore the former state of the world. A realm unencumbered by the technological burden of humanity’s advancements. Certainly their various achievements were exciting, but the cost seemed too great to ignore forever.<br/><br/><br/>The tomb that house Iseulith’s sarcophagus was massive and littered with immeasurable mounds of treasure strew haphazardly throughout. This treasure was different from the rest and seemed to glow independently under the flare of the lit torches surrounding the space. It had belonged to his Sire and even he had fallen prey to the magic that bound it to his possession. It was a dark curse left upon the hoard by a true dragon whose greed surpassed even his own and though his Maker was long crumbled to dust and bone it would endure, perhaps forever. A path had been carved through the mountains of precious coins and trinkets leading up to the dais where his ornate resting place sat. Iseulith noticed how Cersie gawked at it and smiled, though his words came with a warning. “An impressive fortune left to me upon my Master’s true demise though there is not a precious coin amidst it all that can be spent. It was cursed by his possession, even this small portion of it remains as tempting as it was when he walked in this world.” The rest was still buried deep within his lair, or rather what had once been so. Forever sealed away from the eyes of mortals and immortals alike, for now. “I would not recommend touching anything. The treasure acts as a barrier, to protect me in rest from potential threats. I have seen men stuff their pockets with it in the hopes of gaining wealth in the wider world only to find themselves trapped by its gleaming beauty. Robbed of their will they wasted away, bathing in its light. Their bones rest still within the Dragon’s tomb as they would here had any made it so far.” Iseulith was connected to the hoard through his Sire’s blood and by proxy, Cersie was as well. He would be able to handle the coins with little ill effect for as long as the ancient’s blood coursed through his veins, but eventually even he might fall victim to it.<br/><br/><br/>The vampire climbed the stairs of the platform and waved his hand over the huge granite slab that covered the mouth of the sarcophagus. It slid away with the slow and heavy groan of grinding stone smoothed flat over centuries of repetition. The inside was lined with brilliant red silk, cushioned and comfortable. He took the elemental’s hand as he placed one naked foot into its deep confines. “You have nothing to worry about my charm. I would ask that you do not remove the covering while I am vulnerable, I am sure that you have other ways to escape should you find it too taxing to remain.” As he lay within the soft embrace he would allow Cersie to climb in of his own volition. He placed trust in the man as much as the other placed in him. Sleep for a vampire was akin to death, and when the sun rose he could not wake from that deep slumber. Through his familiar’s eyes he would dream the waking world around him, ever watchful, but his body would remain inert until the brilliant light faded once again from the land. He would tangle his body around Cersie, like a serpent, holding him close but not constricting as the heavy lid encased them in blackness, only the gleaming of their eyes would show against the dark. He would smile and pull the elemental into a deep kiss, “Sleep well, pet. Tonight we will embark upon our journey and speak more of change. I find myself excited to shed the skin of this home for another. I think you will be pleased as well.”<br/><br/><br/>With that, the vampire’s eyes fell closed and his body went limp and silent. No breath, no heartbeat, not even the twitching of eyes that beheld dreams behind their lids. All was silent as even the torches outside had their light extinguished.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/><br/>When Iseulith awoke it was gradual. His bones creaked and joints popped as his body reset once again to its unnatural state. It was always the same. Injuries sustained in waking were mended through the day during sleep so that when his eyes opened he was the same as the day of his turning. Little had transpired over the weeks and so there was little mending to be done, but he was eternally hungry and the silently sleeping Cersie provided a delightful snack upon his eventual resurrection. He lifted a hand slowly to slip through the man’s soft hair, gripping it tightly inbetween his fingers. The spiraling glow of his eyes cast a gloom in the darkness as the sun outside settled beyond the horizon and his fangs popped into place, long and dripping with venom. It took little effort to tilt the man’s head so his neck was exposed, the rhythmic pumping of his heart was like a drum in the ancient’s ears.<br/><br/><br/>Iseulith groaned softly when he bit into Cersie’s neck, his tongue sweeping over skin to catch the precious blue blood before he sealed his lips around the wound. Perhaps the pain of the initial bite would wake the man, or maybe the sweet venom splashing into his system would do the trick. It mattered little to the vampire so long as he didn’t struggle. The overwhelming euphoria was the elemental’s weakness and he wished to reward the man for staying with him throughout the day as much as he wished to satiate his own burning thirst. His free hand roamed up the lad’s slim frame, his own arousal rising up within him with each gulp of fresh blood. A soft groan escaped him and Iseulith’s growing erection pressed against Cersie’s stomach