Despite the nature of their correspondence, Margaery's quite certain she knows what Madame de Foncé looks like. Hers is a unique presence, with her penchant for speech and tendencies to have more flyaway strands than Margaery's ever had in her entire life in a single day, but the reminder of these qualities is what keeps her from being too wary as she finds her way to the Project Felandaris workshop just as nightfall is beginning to get comfortable.

Ever since she's learned that removing a shard required far more sacrifice than it was worth, she's been resigned to her fate, to this foreign object embedded into her palm. To learn more feels as though it may be more of a risk for despair than hope, but the need for knowledge has never been without cost.

She's taken off the bandages that cover up the neon coloring, looking down at it with a small frown before she remembers why she's here and tentatively knocks on the door.