Falin watched the sevants scurry out of the room. She studied her new arm, slowly moving it and opening and closing her hand.

"Your arm is, as you have guessed by now, made of pure dark magic. It can be shaped into anything you can imagine, be it a tool for healing or war. Your eye allows you to see into another's mind, if their's is weaker than yours. You can use it to toy with them, make them turn on their allies, or extract information needed." He then gestures to a dress his servant has picked out for her.

"Is the dress to Her Majesty's liking?" The servant says as he gets onto his knees, holding the folded dress above him as he lowers his head in a bow.

She hesitantly picked  up the dress, worried her new arm would damage it. The gown remained unharmed. "It's lovely, thank you."

(I've always liked Lillyxandra's work)

The servant bows once more, before Tiberius nods to him so he can leave. The servant takes three slow steps backward before turning to leave, as is tradition. He then glances to the dress.

"Unless you wish to remain in the nude before the others in the palace, I suggest you dress." He then gestures to another servant, who places the tray of food, a bowl of salad, glass of wine, and seasoned venison chop all on the tray. It is all made to the standards of royalty, better than anyone can get.

Nodding, Falin carefully - albeit awkwardly - pulled the gown on. It seemed to fit well enough, perhaps a bit loose on her still thin body. She hesitated slightly, "Your servant earlier, he called me 'her majesty'," she glanced at Tiberius, "why?"

He quirks an eyebrow for a moment, as if it was obvious.

"You may as well be royalty, now. Common people always view us as their betters, but now that you and I share Perfection, you are a Lady." He nods to her in a respectful manner, before waving his hand over the food.

"This food is yours. The Imperial Palace is no longer mine, alone. All that is mine, is now yours."

Falin slowly nodded. "I see . . . it seems I still have a lot to learn."

Tiberius nods to her before retrieving his helmet and sitting down, deeming to look into its face as he goes over his thoughts, his face as cold as ever, but a few... unusual emotions, are breaking through, every now and then.

Falin hesitated slightly before sitting in front of the tray of food. Despite starving, she ate slowly, as though she was afraid of becoming sick.

He does not notice her, continuing to stare into his helmet as he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, before releasing them, again through his nose.

She studied the glass of wine. Eating or drinking anything made form plants was frowned upon by followers of the Green Pact. But am I even still bound by that? I'm not really an Immortal anymore . . . I'm not sure if I'm even really a Bosmer now. She shifted slightly. I have always wondered what it tasted like. She took a small, hesitant sip before setting the glass down.

Sweet, oh was it sweet. It certainly wasn't as powerful as Rotmeth. I don't think I would say it's bad . . . It's just, different.

He takes one more breath before he glances over his shoulder for a moment.

"I trust the meal is to your liking?" He asks, his voice unusually quite. His posture is unusually... slouched,  as he continues to look down on his helmet.

She blinked before glancing at him. "Hm? Oh! Yes, it is." She gave a small smile. "So many spices and flavors I've never been able to try before, it's really quite good."

He nods to her, before standing and replacing his helmet.

"There are some matters I must attend to, involving politics and the like. I will return." He strides out of the room, his large legs allowing him to cross the room in but a few steps before leaving.