Technoblade - AE

The halls of the Empire are cold, despite the torches lining the walls. It’s unavoidable, really, when the stronghold gets no sunlight, encased deep inside an icy mountain. Its inhabitants do not mind. They’re used to the temperature by now, they’ve adapted and improvised. Technoblade stands alone in the throne room. His gaze is fixed on nowhere in particular, but there’s an intensity to it that makes it seem like he’d burn a hole through a wall with his eyes alone. And with his vibrant pink hair, which contrasts sharply with the muted blues and whites of his clothing, he resembles a living flame. A fire in the heart of Antarctica. He does not budge when someone walks in - rather, he seems to freeze, going perfectly still. “What is it?” Techno calls out without even turning his head.