Once the initial shock of his actions had worn off, Bertoldo had allowed himself a moment or two to acknowledge the surge of power he was experiencing. Typically, so late into the night, his skin began to feel tight and uncomfortable, and he would have given anything to pull away the skin that kept him human. As it was, he felt nothing of the sort; he laughed aloud at the thought that perhaps her blood cured him in some way. It was unlike anything he'd felt before in all his countless years of life, and after a few hours he found himself craving more, once the power began to dampen and his skin became tight and itchy once more. He wasn't cured, the effects were only temporary. He felt strongly disappointed, and in his oversensitive state, that disappointment quickly shifted to loud, uncontrollable anger.
By morning, Bertoldo was surrounded by the remains of what used to be a decent collection of old books and diaries he would write in to keep track of his long history, within something that used to be considered a library. Thousands of years worth of information lay scattered across his floor; some shelves had merely toppled over, others had been reduced to planks of wood thrown every which way. Bertoldo leaned against his desk, which had remained as it always had in the centre of the room, seemingly untouched by his rage.
Part of him wondered if Erieda had yet woken, if she'd ever fallen asleep at all. His leg was shaking for what felt like the longest time, indicating his impatience, and after releasing a heavy exhale of breath, he was suddenly standing. Three long strides and he was at the door, hand hovering over the handle, when suddenly her scent filled his nostrils. He stood like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes darting left to right and his nose crinkling, as if trying to determine how close she actually was, before his hand finally made contact with the handle and he was pulling the door open. To his surprise, she was stood before him, dressed only in the night gown he assumed had been given to her for her to sleep in. He couldn't help himself, and looked her up and down, saying nothing for the longest time.
Eventually he cleared his throat, and forced himself to stand a little taller. If he was human, he might have flushed red at the thought of her seeing what he'd done to his study, so he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind himself suddenly. "Erieda," he began with a slight nod. "I... I wasn't expecting a visit," he continued, as if this was any kind of valid excuse to explain away the mess. He remained silent then. Never before had he felt so flustered, normally he did well to keep his composure, even in awkward or dangerous situations. Erieda was something else entirely... Aside from all the business about forming alliance against his Council's wishes, the only thing he could focus on was the events of the night before, and how much he was craving more of her blood, despite not being particularly hungry.
"I do apologize for fleeing so suddenly," Bertoldo spoke up again. "Your blood... It's stronger than anything I'm used to. My emotions were just... all over the place." Despite himself, he reached for her hand with his own without a moment's hesitation, and cupped it with the other. "It was incredibly rude of me... And if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, please do let me know."