"I will graciously allow it."

He steps up to her again and offers his arms to carry her, bridal-style.

Yep. She will agree to this. She'll even cast an enchantment on herself to make herself a bit lighter, that seems like the smart thing to do when one is a passenger on a glider. If weight were a very difficult thing to mess with, mesmer enchanted bags would be much less convenient.

"Your gauntlets are uncomfortable," she informs him, once she's in his arms.

"I apologise for the oversight. Next time I will remove them." He peers around then walks over to an oddly-shapped boulder that's surrounding a few crystals. He steps on his Flesh Golem's helpful shoulders then onto the boulder, and the air is noticeably warmer there. "Ready, princess?" he asks with no sign of exertion.

She hums an affirmative and leans into him. It is a good thing he is covered in spikes, fire, and his pretty face is put away. Or a very bad thing. She hasn't decided.

And he—

—jumps—

—and a large green glider appears on his back and immediately catches the strong updraft coming from the warm Bloodstone crystals below them. They're still not high enough to quite reach the floating temple but the purposefulness with which James is angling his glider suggests he knows how to get there.

Oh.

Gliding turns out to be fun.

Her breath catches in her throat, and then she lets out a little giggle of delight.

His mask hides his grin. "Having fun there?"

"Oh," she giggles, "yes."

At long, long last, she's not in the Mists. Instead she's free, free, free in Tyria and she can go gliding and flirt with pretty men and finally begin living again. If she hadn't already done quite a lot of crying earlier, she'd be tempted to start again.

"Good. I can teach you to glide sometime, it's really useful. Get ready." And then they reach another updraft—how James found it is a mystery—and now they're gliding above the arena/temple, which has no ceiling and absolutely nothing in it except for a circular pedestal in the middle.

Her breath catches again when they reach the second updraft, and then she's back to giggling.

"I'm going to hold you to that. I would like to glide."

"And now we land..." He shifts his weight back so that he's mostly standing in the air and the glider slows down a lot and starts a smooth descent. His feet touch the ground with a soft thud that doesn't jostle Vetareh at all, and he says, "Here we are, princess."

"Thank you," she says, smiling up at him. "You're never going to stop calling me princess, are you, playing along with the joke at all has cemented it and it will forever haunt my steps, won't it."

"If you ask me to stop I will of course stop."

"Ah, I see." Yep, sure is a good thing his pretty face is covered. Such a good thing. "Well, it is rather cute. It's fine so long as it's clear to other people that it is a joke, and that I'm not actually an Orrian princess. That could get uncomfortable."

"I expect most people will not assume anything of me just calling you that, if you do not tell them where you're from. They will probably assume, ah, some things from it, so I might restrict myself to only doing so in private, if you prefer."

"What things do you expect they'll assume? I don't exactly have cultural context anymore."

"That we are 'an item'," he says, quotation marks audible in his tone. "This is especially true of anyone who is aware of the rumours about the Queen and a certain member of her guard."

"Ah," she says. "Perhaps save that for if we decide we'd like to give them that impression, then."

She gives him a wry look. "You realize you still haven't put me down."

"I would not want to unceremoniously drop you without warning," he explains, and then gently sets her back on her feet.

"Ah," she repeats, a little amused.

... Then something occurs to her and she looks at him thoughtfully. "Are you this flirtatious with everyone?"

    He tilts his head and seems about to say something when a voice behind Vetareh says, "Not this flirtatious," which makes him jump.

"Caithe! I didn't see you there."

    "And that was by design," says... apparently it's a woman made of plants. "Who's this?"

Vetareh doesn't jump, but she does freeze, and her hand twitches to her scepter. She does not like being taken by surprise. Being taken by surprise only happens with very, very dangerous things in the Mists. Then she notes James's familiarity with the person responsible, and she consciously wills herself to relax. Fortunately, she did not go so far as to cast a hex, though it was a near thing.

She takes a single measured step to the side and pivots to look at the woman. Plants. Okay. Sure, whatever, not important in comparison to random plant lady being stupid enough to sneak up on her. She's seen weirder things, who cares if the woman is made out of plants.

"Vetareh. Hello." She fixes 'Caithe' with a look. If Caithe was clever enough to be that sneaky, then she is clever enough to know what almost just happened. Hopefully she is wise enough to never do it again.

"She's a friend," James tells Caithe, a touch cold, which in contrast to how he's been treating Vetareh must be quite a shock.

    Caithe points a wan smile at Vetareh. "Hello." Then she looks at James again. "Are you...?"

"Trying to figure out why the explosion reversed itself and the trail led me here." The pause in which he tries to get his bearings and not bite Caithe's head off is barely noticeable, but it's there. He assumes a more professional tone. "Look at these marks," he says, gesturing at glowing red marks on the ground that lead to the archway out. "Could these have been made by a torrent of magic?"

    "Possibly," she says, not showing any surprise at his sudden shift in demeanour. She throws Vetareh a very short glance before looking at James and continuing. "You think something or someone was behind this? Or was it a natural disaster?"

Vetareh does not actually find it all that shocking that James is cold towards this person. She doesn't really like her either, and she's only known her for about a minute. Still, they clearly have a working relationship of some kind, Vetareh can follow that lead instead of growling at Caithe.

"We might be able to just check," she says, thoughtfully. "Magic of this magnitude doesn't just dissipate. It leaves—echoes." Sometimes to the Mists themselves, as she well knows. Ha, ha. But the Mists are very good at absorbing whatever is thrown into them. Not many things can make that claim.

... Except, perhaps, things that were used to absorb large amounts of magical energy from human sacrifice. Any material wouldn't do for that, it would have to be something that was already inclined to pick up magical energy.

"Bloodstones were used to absorb magical energy, correct? So why would the ones here be any different?"