Pushed away: Laquer

It holds a comprehensive distrust of the whole arrangement, reading every appearance as a surface applied over something worse and every reassurance as part of the finish, with a sense of having been left here by whatever put it here. The mother it came from was harmful and needy at once, praising highly while doing damage, which is precisely the training required to believe that a pleasant surface is evidence of something foul beneath it. What it asks for is one surface examined all the way through, to a finding either way.

Everything's a coat of paint. I've never once been shown what's underneath.

It echoes Utgarda-Loki, whose hall was illusion from the door inward, where every contest was rigged and the guests were told so only once they were safely on the road home. The form implies a task: to notice that somebody eventually explained the trick.