even with the yards of her feather cape taken off after grand entry, marguerite had been unable to shake off the feeling and slight discomfort that this was the most fabric she had worn since youthful teenage years. even with the exposed décolletage and high slit, she was used to a great deal less silk. she thumbs the pearl at the base of her necklace and wonders, absently, what mignonette had thought of her -- and the rest of the room. her reverie is only broken when she spots princess olivia, who she drops her wistfulness for in an instant to approach. “olivia!” mags exclaims once close enough, leaning in to faux-kiss each of her cheeks before taking her wrists and spreading the younger woman’s arms outwards in a gesture of observation. “you are an absolute doll.”