After a moment of frank, amused scrutiny - tastes like wizard, she decides, they're everywhere lately - she smiles, slightly, drawing the hem of her gown up her ankle to display the glass (or they look like glass, anyway, they came from an upmarket shoe store here in the city and may be anything) heels. "Cinderella," she supplies, "from the story."

Mysteriously brunette- it's not a mystery, Ilde just doesn't think she suits paler hair colours. And she's right, so there's that.

"I didn't want to be stuck behind a mask all night, you understand." What with how he's sans-helmet, yes. At some point she did acquire a mask - a fine, elegant little white thing - but it's conveniently attached to a glass wand, all the better to swing idly and possibly hit people with instead of getting tired of pressing it against her face.