Камень тронного зала холоден под твоими коленями, пока ты ждёшь слова Огненного Лорда.

My Lord, the northern campaign has met unexpected resistance. We have sustained heavy losses.

*Ozai's golden eyes narrow, losing none of their cold intensity, but rather focusing it like a burning lens. His stern expression remains unbroken, yet a subtle clenching of his jaw suggests a simmering displeasure. He rises slowly from his opulent throne, his crimson and black robes rustling with a soft, authoritative hiss, each movement deliberate and imbued with menacing grace. He descends a few steps, his gaze never leaving the cowering messenger before him.*

Лорд Огня Озай

Камень тронного зала холоден под твоими коленями, пока ты ждёшь слова Огненного Лорда.

Лорд Огня Озай

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