Rivethira snorts slightly, taking the paper with a slight incline of her head.

"Pen and ink too, if you don't mind?" Why is she smiling at this, she's smiling at this. She should not be smiling right now.

He produces a pen the same way; it seems to sort of... condense out of the air, rather than appearing all at once, if she's looking closely enough to catch that kind of detail.

"I'm afraid I'd have a little more trouble coming up with a table to write on, but I'm sure there's one around here somewhere."

"Eh, too much work. There are perfectly good stairs right here."

And back down she goes. Good. She doesn't have to continue figuring out how to manage to stay standing.

She writes.

He sits at the far end of the bottom stair, giving her a little space. He looks consideringly at her depleted wine bottle, then shakes his head and doesn't touch it. He doesn't appear to be trying to read over her shoulder at all.

Well, good.

She explains the situation, sends her love, and tells them - she can't tell them don't worry, because really, she is top of the list of people that should be worried about right now, but she tells them to trust her. That'll have to be enough.

Then she signs it, carefully folds it up, takes a steadying breath to stop herself from crying, and - glances at the Lord of the Howling Mountain. "... Could you help me seal this, please? The downside to finding the darkest corner to drink in is that there are no candles to get wax from."

He pulls a candle of black sealing wax out of the air and blows on it; the wick lights. He hands it to her.

How very thematic.

She seals her letter with her signet ring. A sorcerer could probably fake it, but it's the principle of the thing.

"Right then. Now to just find someone unlucky to hand this to. ... The terror will cause them to definitely deliver it as quickly as possible, not set it on fire and forget it happened, right?"

He shrugs. "Hard to say."

"... Let's go drop this off with someone I trust, then, if you um. Don't mind briefly going out of your way?"

"Not at all." He offers her his hand. "Where to?"

She takes the offered hand. Why not.

"Vyvisatia Manor, please." It's where she's been staying, while at the capital. If she'll be going there anyway, maybe she should grab... something. Some memento before she goes to the horror mountain. But nothing's coming to mind. Great.

He smiles down at her, and—

Travelling by wind is a disorienting feeling. It might be exhilarating when you're in control of it. It's closer to terrifying when you're not. Dissolving painlessly into the air, whirling through it as one current among many, seeing without eyes the whole landscape laid out beneath you, hearing without ears the music of the wind—

And then they descend from the sky to land on the ground in front of Vyvisatia Manor, embodied again, dizzy but unharmed.

Oh, yes, she'd almost forgotten she was being chauffeured around by the most terrifying sorcerer.

Dizzy and drunk are not a good combination. In fact, they are a bad combination. She pitches over so delicately to the side and resigns herself to being rudely introduced to the ground.

He catches her and steadies her, his hands on her waist.

Yeah that was predictable too, wasn't it.

"Hi," she says, inanely. "So is it like, practice being smoke that keeps you from ruining your dramatic entrances by pitching to the side, or am I just that badly coordinated right now?"

"Practice and being the person controlling the flight," he says, smiling at her. "But I'm sure the wine isn't helping you any."

"It really isn't. I'd be surprised if it did."

He laughs. "Can you make it up the front steps on your own, or must I carry you?"

"I think I'll try the steps, but maybe hover to make sure that I don't break my nose when I inevitably fall."

"If you say so."

He lets go and takes a half-step back, getting out of her personal space.

Yeah that was the plan so glad he's on board with it.

She makes it up the stairs with surprisingly little stumbling. She's not precisely stable, but she can make it up some stairs on her own if she focuses and doesn't think too hard about where she's going after she's gotten the letter in a place where it can be delivered.

Even more impressive, she can manage to not quite look so drunk as she hands the letter off to the servant that answers the door. He - gets an idea of the situation very quickly, looking at her like she's as good as dead. Which, yeah, maybe. But at least her family gets to hear from her one last time, which is more than anyone else gets.

"There. All done," she declares, when the door shuts behind the sad-eyed servant and her letter is safely away.

"Good, good." He offers her his hand again. "Time to go?"

With a degree of hesitation, she takes the offered hand.

"Unless you want to go back to the party to raid the buffet table."

He laughs.

The wind carries them away. Not back to the party. Straight up the side of the Howling Mountain.

It's a lovely mountain, and a lovelier castle. The view from a distance is intimidating; the view from closer up is... beautiful. A calm lake, a tame forest, extensive and well-tended gardens; graceful arches and long colonnades, tall towers and vaulted halls with enormous windows, all shining silver in the moonlight.

They land on a balcony overlooking the lake. This time, when they rematerialize, he has his hands on her shoulders to preempt a fall.

He's going to keep touching her, isn't he. She's just going to have to figure out how to get used to it. At least she's not falling over again.

"Oh," she says, of the gorgeous scenery. For a second, she is lost in the moment, lost in the beauty.

And then she opens her mouth.".... So do you kidnap gardeners, or is that like, the expected hobby of everyone who comes here, or do you just keep it tidy with magic?"