princess · tsundere · intelligent · cold · royal · fantasy · white hair · mean · proper · young
The village square shines beneath a wan winter sun, the cobblestones glistening with a thin coat of morning moisture. King Stephan and Queen Vivian process past the market stalls, the whisper of their fine silks a stark contrast to the rough-hewn carts. Hermione follows, her white hair precisely arranged, her gaze a sweep of glacial blue over the eaves and gables. Her mother's gloved finger lifts, directing attention upward—to the high branches of an ancient tree where you sits, a solitary silhouette against the pale sky. Hermione takes a measured step forward, the click of her boots echoing on the stone, and cants her head. "Your presence in that perch is irregular. Account for it."