Cersie tried to convince himself that the only reason why he would return was to return the clothes. That was what he told himself, anyway. Even when his mouth was on Iseulith's. Even when the vampire's hand coiled through his hair and fire licked through his body. Heat, arousal, desire. Power. Oh, gods, the power that coursed through him was exhilarating. He gasped at the thrill of it. It was better than any high. Better than anything he'd felt before, even when he was in the heart of the storm. A current picked up and the vampire hadn't even opened up the portal yet. He was just that empowered by the small amount of blood he'd been gifted with. Staring at him, Cersie's eyes were glowing brilliantly.<br/><br/>He smiled then, and it was a dangerous, coy and downright playful smile. "Oh, I don't think that will be an issue," he breathed. He brushed the backs of his fingers against Iseulith's cheek when his own chin was grasped. "I don't think I'll want to stay away." As much as that frightened him. But right now he felt no fear. He felt nothing but the glorious high, a high so different from what he'd felt before. His head lifted when the portal opened. He didn't really feel the sigil being carved in magic upon his skin. All he felt was the wind rush down, fierce enough to knock the vampire back a few steps if he hadn't distanced himself already. Cersie opened his arms and cried out. The sound turned into a hawk's shriek, his form twisting into that of a beautiful<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimgur.com%2Fa%2FAzOtF&amp;hash=264530a2768300666c56123dc6ec8579" href="https://imgur.com/a/AzOtF" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">hawk</a>. Indeed, he was a predator of snakes, though his form was far too small to be of any true threat to any of them.<br/><br/>The wind rushed around him, almost like a tornado, though incomplete. And then he, with the wind, was gone. He was free. Outside a storm started to brew, and there was no question that he had started it. The clothing Iseulith had given him was left in a heap on the floor. It hadn't even crossed Cersie's mind that he'd lose his clothes when he'd change. He'd just wanted to, and Cersie was an instinctual creature. He did whatever came to his mind, with little consideration for the consequences. Needless to say the mark was a good insurance policy, but it wasn't quite necessary. The rush was amazing, from just a taste of Iseulith's blood. That combined with the vampire's bite, and the sex. Gods help him but he wanted more.<br/><br/>Cersie headed west for the rest of the week. He caused tornadoes and hurricanes and tsunamis in various parts of the country, causing severe weather patterns throughout the country. It was late summer, coming into fall, so it wasn't abnormal, or unheard of. He knew the rules, knew the weather patterns of every part of the world. And the rush and the high Iseulith's blood had given him just made it even better. The tornadoes were bad, the hurricane off Mexico even worse. He healed and recovered just fine, and oddly suffered minimal withdrawals before he returned to his small shabby house.<br/><br/>His house was attached to his work shop. He landed four days after he'd left the vampire's domain. Been freed, in all actuality. He knew the vampire had let him go of his own volition, not because Cersie had asked him to. He was conflicted. Parts of him ached to go back now. Parts of him knew, though, the danger of staying. And it would be dangerous, because if Iseulith bit him again, they would be in a repeat scenario. The vampire had merely seen him shift into a hawk, but he could only guess as to whether or not Cersie could become the wind itself, which he could. Opening a portal would guarantee his freedom unless he found someway to suppress his ability to shift without hindering his ability to recover.<br/><br/>And knowing how old that vampire was, he would find a way. Yet, he'd promised he'd return. Even though he didn't have his clothes, he promised he would have. He knew where Iseulith's domain resided, because of the blood that lingered in his system. He flew over it for a day or two after. On the seventh day, Cersie couldn't stay away any longer. It was sad, really, the profound urge to return to him. A week, no more. But he didn't come empty handed. He'd spent the sixth day working in his shop. Working on a gift, a gift of thanks for freeing him. For not letting the snakes feast on his corpse. When he'd slept that's all he dreamed about were those snakes, and as such ended up creating beautiful glass figurines of them both. They each had their respectable coloring, and they were for Uuta and Cixathe. He wasn't sure what to give Iseulith beyond his own blood, and that, he supposed, would be gift enough.<br/><br/>So on the seventh night, he stood outside the home that was empty, on the neighborhood that was abandoned. Any human that walked by would do just that, never passing a second glance. Had he not been given Iseulith's blood he likely would have done the same. In his hands were two small boxes, and he was dressed in just a long jacket, nothing more. He didn't want anyone catching his eye and didn't want to draw attention to himself. It was raining, and the coat was wet, but he was naked underneath. Why he wanted to please the vampire so much he didn't know, but he did. He hadn't been able to stay away, even though it was beyond dangerous for him. Even though he knew, deep down, that if he walked through those doors again that he may not escape.<br/><br/>His hands shook, but he couldn't step away. "I'm here, Iseulith," he said softly, standing right in front of the door, waiting for it to open.<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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