Most of the stairs spiral, for the sake of conserving usable space — and she's certainly made the most of that space, some of the rooms that various doors and stairs lead off to quite generously appointed. She touches the lamp he gestures to with the kind of absent fondness that she has usually applied, previously, to horses and dogs.

“Like veilfire,” she offers, after he's groped around his explanation sufficiently that she's more or less confident of having ascertained the shape of what he's grabbing at. “I've seen mages light veilfire torches, in elvhen ruins usually. And I've a dress that uses enchantments that look like candles— true fire would be a catastrophe waiting to happen.”

It's more of a wearable chandelier, and she's worn it both with and without an appropriate under-dress. Considerate of her to so expertly light the angles of her arse if it's going to be on display of an evening.

“These lamps are throughout, anyway, I rather fancied them.”