Cersie felt immeasurable relief when the paralysis wore off. He swallowed and closed his eyes, moving his limbs, stretching. The wounds on his neck had healed fully. He wasn't even dizzy from the blood loss. Sitting up, his head turned to the two standing across the room from him. They were conducting business, he supposed. He'd been rather lost in his own thoughts and own mind while the paralytic was in effect. Now that he could move, he didn't want to be stared at by the witch, let picked up interest, not when he had less than human eyes. Cersie reached for his jacket and pulled it back on, then fumbled around in a pocket for his shaded lenses. He slipped them onto his face. He stood slowly, swaying just a little. The blood seemed to move sluggishly within him, and he rubbed his neck with a shaky sigh.<br/><br/>He took up the boxes in hand and put them back into the jacket, the thing tied back around his waist once it was closed. He stayed away from the witch and his host, though he couldn't help but wonder what Iseulith had summoned her for, let alone the whys of it. From what he'd gathered and could ascertain Iseulith wanted to move, but had Cersie really been the cause of such a decision? It seemed like it, though the vampire had also mentioned that he often moved. It just seemed like he was changing his interior, which didn't seem like something he would do easily. The art really was fascinating, and he took several moments to observe and admire the paintings on the ceiling and walls as he wandered a bit closer to the pair. Not enough to be seen or heard, though perhaps that was the case.<br/><br/>He didn't know, or care. He wasn't trying to intrude, but to eavesdrop. His hand braced against the wall, a gentle and warm breeze caressing through his hair though it faded before it reached the pair. When he wasn't weakened or hindered by drugs or other states of mental distortion, he could conjure his abilities more readily. Though outright storms of wind and rain were impossible without the outside current to manipulate. He caught the entirety of the conversation, and saw Utaa slip away after he procured the vials for the witch. Cersie still had no closer understand of what Iseulith meant to do than before. The other was such a mystery to him. Cersie sighed and moved away, but Utaa was suddenly standing there in front of him.<br/><br/>The boy-looking creature still unnerved him. Both of them did, though Cixathe was still no where in sight. "Where's your brother?" he asked, merely curious because wanted to give him his gift, nothing more.<br/><br/>Utaa merely blinked, but said nothing. Cersie frowned. He couldn't recall either of them doing more than hissing likes the snakes of their truest forms. Which made him wonder.<br/><br/>"You can't speak, can you?" he asked softly.<br/><br/>Utaa shook his head. There the two of them were standing, still in the parlor by the fireplace, having returned there after Cersie had finished eavesdropping on the conversation that had transpired. Cersie reached into his pocket, procuring the blue-colored box. The box wasn't expensive looking by any means, but inside was velvet-lined with soft padding to protect his hard work. He held it out to Utaa. "I'm sorry I frightened you last week. It wasn't my intention, though I hope we have an understanding that I'm not food." He gave Utaa a sheepish grin. "It's a gift, for you."<br/><br/>Utaa hesitated for a long moment, then reached out and took the box into his hands. He opened it, the box falling to the floor as he held the snake delicately in his hands. Cersie bent down to retrieve the box, wondering if the snake could at least express human emotion of any sort. Was it possible? He didn't know. He knew nothing about snakes or other ground creatures. He was more familiar and in tune with birds of all sorts and other creatures that flew through the skies he had inhabited most of his life. When he straightened back up, Utaa was gone. Instead, his snake form was there, the figurine gently set on the table. Cersie tensed instinctively, and took a step back when Utaa slithered forward. But the giant cobra's hood wasn't flared, and his tongue merely darted out to scent the air as he moved to wrap around Cersie.<br/><br/>The wind elemental did not like that at all. However, he swallowed his fear, because he couldn't detect any malice from the snake. That and he had a feeling Iseulith would not remotely condone Utaa actually attacking him. Utaa seemed more docile compared to his brother. Suddenly he was staring into the snake's face. Utaa had leaned forward, his tongue kiss his cheek. He didn't constrict Cersie, but moved around to rest his massive head on his shoulder. "Ah...um...you're welcome," he said, feeling more awkward than afraid. Tentatively he reached up and touched the scales. "I've never touched a snake before," he admitted. Utaa's tongue flicked out again. Cersie didn't mind standing there, letting Utaa thank him as long as he chose to, and as long as he didn't do anything threatening.