#thegrandempresscelene

[[Doing this with the Bard!Theo mentality HAH So crude T_T]]

Sataareth sighed and looked at The Human. He knew who she likely was and bowed.

What they smell like:

"Roses. Particularly pungent roses. That is a fact apparent to anyone who spends mere seconds in her presence. Don’t get me started on how much such a scent fills small carriages.”

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc):

"Oh Maker I can barely imagine her sleeping. I somehow don’t think she’s a restless sleeper. Whatever position she falls asleep in would be the same position she wakes up in. Surrounded by powder-blue pillows too, obviously."

What music they enjoy:

"Big, orchestral pieces that just scream "Orlais!" in their strings, in their brass, in their woodwind. The sort of music that takes over a room with its presence, much like she does."

How much time they spend getting ready every morning:

"Hours upon hours. Well, that’s not quite right. I bet she has a strict regiment of things other people do for her. She simply stands or sits and allows her servants to do the rest. Off with the head of the maiden who dares to draw too thick eyeliner."

Their favorite thing to collect:

"Oh now this could be any number of things. Roses. Educational books. Chess sets. Hm. Perhaps chess sets. Expensive as they are, I could see it appealing to her extravagant nature. And her penchant for games."

Left or right-handed:

"Seemed right handed at the dinner table, from what I could tell when I wasn’t busy hyperventilating."

Religion (if any):

"Celene virtually commands her own religion. Whether she is religious or not, I don’t see her changing anything she does to fit a regiment set out by a religion, however often her actions would suggest she does follow some faith.”

Favorite sport:

"Making nobles squirm. I have to admit, if I were in her shoes, I’d quite enjoy doing it too."

Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc):

"You mean to suggest Celene would ever leave Orlais? No, that wouldn’t happen. In her tours of Orlais, however, I see her spending her time earning the hearts of her people, whatever that may involve."

Favorite kind of weather:

"Warm and cloudless I’d wager; where she can make use of the cooling air around that magnificent fountain in her gardens."

A weird/obscure fear they have:

"She is only human, but somehow, I don’t imagine her having a fear, and if she were to find one, I would expect her to face it head on until it was a fear no longer. Though perhaps she fears one day losing the Game. That is something that is final."

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail:

Montbleu always smelled of the freshest roses, especially on such a bright and temperate day such as this. Theo hadn't quite gotten used to all the lavish eccentricities of the chateau, or even the country in general, but he quite liked having the cushy servant job all the same. The elf had only been in Val Royeaux for a few months when his thieving ways caught someone's attention for the umpteenth time. Miette, a servant woman from Montbleu had observed him stealing a bit of food and, to his bewilderment, offered a helping hand. On the Empress's lands, no less! How could he possibly refuse such a generous offer?

The man had yet to master the Orlesian language or their customs, so he was usually tasked with menial things such as lowly chores or gathering supplies. Not that he minded at all - either way, he was given a bed to sleep in and food in his belly. Today he had been sent out to gather berries in the nearby woods. There had been a specific vicinity he was instructed to stay within and no further, though he had no idea why. Was some giant serpent going to lunge out and whisk him away to it's lair if he took one step out of the boundaries? Theo scoffed at the thought, giving a jovial laugh as he wandered through the brush.

Two baskets hung from each arm to keep each type of berry separate, though the only kind he was at all interested in were the plump, dark purple ones he managed to find. The elf slipped on his leather gloves with a jolt of eagerness and dropped all but one basket to the ground. Soon enough, he had gotten to work plucking blackberries from their thorny stems to toss into the container, though every now and then he popped one into his mouth instead. He couldn't have asked for a better chore on a better day!