The woman I saw had the air of superiority. Her hair, pulled up into a tight braided bun, the same shade as Gabrielle and Fleur. The jewelry that adorned her body, several necklaces, some that weaved through her hair, several rings; all a brilliant gold. One particular necklace had an emblem that I knew all too well. The Delacour symbol, the white Abraxan. Their chosen steed for travel and battle. Her purple dress made her stand out among the crowd. This was a woman who knew she was above many in this room. Even among her fellow Veela.