"Harder," Ilde speculates, of not lying to yourself; everyone has their illusions, mostly less literal than some of hers tend to be, the little lies they tell themselves to make it easier to be themselves. The justifications and the willful ignorance and a hundred other things-- the illusion of honesty, even, which is one reason (of several) why she doesn't tend to ask questions when she wants to know something. The things people say rarely tell her what it is she's interested in.

"I think it's sort of lovely," she adds, after a moment, poking at the fish on her plate with her fork. Nearly a year ago, her reaction to witnessing a three-headed vulture woman swallow men whole was isn't she beautiful, so there's that.