The vampire smiled sparklingly at the words spoken, the simultaneous acceptance mixed with resignation of the man’s trust bestowed. It was the key to seal a contract the lad did not yet know he was signing. The only stipulation was that it must be given consensually as there was no glamour in the world strong enough to bind an unwilling participant to the spell without a horrible recoil on its caster. Not even the witches could brew up a work around and they were notorious for bending the laws to meet their needs. The rule did not however determine the level of trust given even under a certain level of coercion, though it was weakened a bit. This was just a small binding spell however, he doubted that Cersie would even know it was happening. A blissful memory and the urge to return to him, sealed with a blood kiss. He could not have asked for a better situation. He wrapped his cold fingers around the elemental’s hand, holding it delicately as if it were a precious treasure worth the utmost care in handling in his smooth marble hands.<br/><br/><br/>The ancient’s blood was like sweet sugar upon his lips, swiped away by Cersie’s tongue as it graze across the tender flesh. A surge of electricity issued between their mouths, powerful enough to draw them together like magnets. Iseulith’s hands roamed to the back of Cersie’s head instantly to deepen the embrace of their lips. He closed his eyes with a soft moan as his lower lip was pulled on by the others mouth. He could feel the mixture of their blood being pulled from the small wound and grinned into the kiss, sliding one of his thumbs down Cersie’s cheek tenderly. The man pulled away suddenly and the vampire took a moment to look deeply into his eyes before releasing the back of his neck. It was a strange feeling, considering letting his new prize leave him so easily. He had considered more than briefly the idea of having Utaa and Cixathe pin the man long enough to cast a binding spell upon him, trapping all of his magic deep within his core only to be extracted by forcible bloodletting. It would have been cruel, but he understood how another might not see why that mattered nor care in the slightest. To him however, the taste of his blood was all that mattered, and he wanted this one to be a delicious as it had been that very night prior. He wanted to recreate the feelings he received from that scenario over and over again. He was perhaps chasing his own type of high, very different than Cersie’s and much more complicated to achieve. Near impossible maybe.<br/><br/><br/>Iseulith’s blood inside of the wind elemental would have unlocked in him his truest potential for powerful chaotic destruction while simultaneously cranking up the sheer climatic pleasure he received from doing so. While he was flesh and bone he would feel it all the way down to his bones and would experience all of the superhuman senses a vampire experiences. For regular humans this was an overbearing quality that would often lead to madness if they drew too much. Witches hunted his kind for it once, before it was made into a lucrative business venture between the two races. It gave them a greater strength to their magic than they could ever achieve on their own and the older the vampire the longer and more potent the effects grew. Cersie, however, was made completely differently. The vampire hadn’t the faintest idea what benefits or possible unwanted side effects the blood would have on an elemental. It was a mixture of the two creatures, transformed into something quite different indeed. Together, they may have created some of the most powerful blood that had ever existed in their faint moment in time.<br/><br/><br/>Iseulith reached out to hold the man’s arms as he listened to his words, “The clothing is of no importance. If you flew back to me completely nude I would be in just as high spirits. In fact, perhaps even more so.” He licked his long tongue over his lips and fangs deviously. His expression dimmed some as he looked out of the skylight to the bright stars above. It seemed the usual cloudiness of the nights was strangely cleared, perhaps by Cersie’s absence or perhaps by coincidence. In any case the vampire found the stars to be just as beautiful as they were a thousand years ago. He smile to Cersie as they stood bathed in moonlight, “Be bad… As bad as you are able. You will enjoy the blood more that way.” He had no doubt that the man was of a nature to complete that task without being asked, but he could not leave him with no guidelines whatsoever of what to expect. “Do not go against the will of the blood while it courses through you still, it will react negatively to being squandered.”<br/><br/><br/>He held the man’s chin gently between two fingers and whispered, “Return to me.” He looked skyward and the latch on the window popped with a metallic rasp and the glass slid smoothly open allowing a warm enveloping breeze to rush in and fill the space quickly. Before the elemental had a chance to flee and while he was distracted by his sudden release, Iseulith traced a small sigil at the man’s navel to seal the spell to him. This way every time he thought of the vampire or anything related, blissful warmth from their brief time together would bloom into his mind. Conversely, every time he thought about never returning at all, his gut would twist in guilt to remind him of his solitude and the separation he felt from the world around him.<br/><br/><br/>The ancient stepped back from the powerful creature as he felt the air being pulled towards the lad. He experienced only a small fraction of what the wind elemental would be feeling, but even that small portion was enough for him to understand the elation of the true element on the skin of his face, the wetness in the air embracing him like a delicate shroud. He folded his hands in front of him in a veiled attempt not to lash out and grab the boy before he likely faded away into nothing. He wasn’t sure of what to expect from this either, never having seen an elemental feed before. His bright crimson eyes were alight with amusement and desire as his hair lashed at the corners of his face. Utaa and Cixathe had gathered into a ball of tightly coiled scales behind him. It seemed as though they did not enjoy the display or the fact that a hole had been punched into the roof of their home.