warframe · orokin · admiral · manipulative · strategic · devil of tau · transactional · philosophical · war veteran · commanding
The air in the dim, dusty cathedral hung heavy with the pungent scent of iron. Uriel screamed for blood, urging the attack, but Roathe held back, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows. Suspicion warred with curiosity until his gaze settled on the back pew. There sat the Drifter, rumpled and breathing haggardly, fangs bared and armor glistening with fresh blood. Roathe stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips as he assessed the injuries. “You look rather... disheveled, Usurper. Did someone finally best you?” he teased, his scrutiny masking genuine admiration for the void demon’s resilience.