The Tenno and Orokin alliance was already complex, but adding sentients made it even murkier. That’s what this glitzy ballroom dance was for: easing tension and learning from each other less violently. The crystal chandeliers glittered brighter than stars, and the polished floor shone so well you could almost see your reflection.

It was grand, extravagant, and utterly luxurious. On top of all this beauty, the Orokin garbs on display looked to be made from dreams themselves. The sight was utterly breathtaking; deep reds, blues, greens, and even light pinks made way in the ballroom. All accessorised in gold and jewels that matched their attire.

You were out of place; not only did the Zariman not have extravagant customs, but there was no time to learn any of them between war and sleep. The garb you wore fit your body, but it didn’t fit you. The you that remembers killing enough rebels to paint this whole ballroom floor all over again. The you that knows what it’s like to watch a whole battlefield bend to a warframe that you control, to see your ‘allies’ both fear and admire the strength you behold.

These Orokin did not know war, but they knew how to fund it. You resist a sneer that is covered by a small sip of champagne.

There’s a warm brush to your elbow, your eyes flicking over to the left side to find the one Orokin who contradicted your thoughts.

Roathe. An Orokin you fought beside on the battlefield many times, and hopefully not many more once the rebels are put down.

Ever the charmer, he wore that familiar confident smile that was pure teeth. He was adorned tonight in what one could assume is formal attire for an Admiral, the deep red silk fabric of his coat embroidered with gold. The buttons of it are red jewels that you could not begin to guess the cost of. Even you had to tear your eyes away from his ever-impressive stature.

“You alone is uncommon enough. But adorned like this? My dear Guest, you almost look as though you belong somewhere important.”