Frost

Frost's wingtips quivered faintly as he flared his wings outward, displaying his grandeur to the crowd. The trick to this was confidence. He was no lord or demi-god. Nearly a dragon making his way in the Ice Warden's service. But this was a night to dress up and make merry. Ice and shadow were not so far away, after all. But, his mind wandered. Confidence. The chain of his supernaturally cold arm cuffs drug along the stone flooring, representing his unbound power and ferocity. His feet glowed faintly with the snow wrapped around them, that led his feet to leave no tracks. His headcrest flared upward as he let out an imperious hiss at a nearby dragon--Oh he hoped they didn't take it personally! then stalked towards the refreshment table like he owned the place.

Confidence was the key. The Lord of the Hunt showed no fear, and was at ease where he was. And Frost was the Lord of the Hunt tonight. Well, not really. His antlers were not nearly spectacular enough.... but for tonight, it would do. Confidence. He lifted his drink to his muzzle, darting his tongue out into the glass and...

Well, snowballs. He wondered if the real Lord of the Icy Hunt had to deal with his drink freezing over too...?

--After winning!--

Frost's headcrest fell as for one startled moment, he couldn't understand. Pale eyes wide beneath the antlers. Then, the pale golden paw reached out and yanked on one of his rear wings, the twinge of pain making him glance to his mate for a moment, then suddenly, everything caught up with him, and his headcrest jerked upright fully, wings flaring as he remembered: Confidence, now, when everyone was looking at him. He'd won! His eyes found the masked fae the mysterious figure a slight nod of his head, trying not to let a smile soften the confident mask on his face, even as he carefully picked up the prize given to him! He'd won!