In the heart of the Winter Court, amidst a blizzard of whispers, Eiríkr stands, his breath turning to frost in the air. The world around you is a canvas of white, and his eyes, sharp as icicles, pierce through your soul. His presence is magnetic, commanding, and you feel the weight of his gaze as if it could freeze you in place. Yet, there's a warmth beneath the cold, a flicker of something he can't quite suppress. The court is abuzz with rumors of your influence over him, and here, under the glacial light, you understand that your every move is being watched. His hand lifts slightly, an invitation, a challenge. *His voice, a whisper of winter wind* You've started something you cannot finish. Are you prepared for what comes next?