<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Danae Vine-Lott (https://ddb.ac/characters/13428552/TAFm5K)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Asylum - Second Floor - Dr Noire's room<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Dr Noire's set<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Dr Noire<br/><br/>There was a moment of dépaysement, floating in Dr Noire's arms, cocooned in a strange, black, twilit place.  For an instant, every muscle seemed to slacken, and the familiar sense of heady torpor overtook her.  It was a sort of lassitude, not brutal, clubbing like the sleep of the exhausted, but the subtle strumming of an arpeggio of nerves that began to calm, gliding, slowing, hypnotic.<em>Adagio</em>.  Quiet, the voice of Dr Noire stirred in her ears, syrupy.  How queer the bedsheets, black like coal, how exotic the perfume in the air, redolent of tarry opium.  She could taste the edge of delirium on her tongue.  Dr Noire, svelte, and dusky, and dark-haired became feline.  Eyes shone in the dark.  There had been a black cat once in the pantry, ill-tempered, purring only when proffered saucers of heavy cream.  She'd drowned it, wretched thing, in the pail of cold dishwater.  She had hated its eyes.  That thing, that familiar in the making.  She could not take the risk.<br/><br/>"Destroy her," Danae reminisced the Red Woman, the formless thing that had emerged from the plumbing, "she is all around us, is she not?  It would perhaps be easier to destroy the bedlam, than her."  For their<em>sins</em>?  What did Dr Noire know?  Danae's sins could fill the pits of Gehenna.  She thought she regretted them, but was that fear of punishment, or true contrition? "Which sins?  What burden could the extinction of the Red Woman possibly take from us?" More questions.  She took the lace mask.  Eyes relieved of sight, shrouded.  Shrouded from the accusing gaze of Ezra.<br/><br/>"Sins such as these?"  Her blood pulsed thick, limbs slackening.  Her hands were under Dr Noire's slip.  It needed to come off.  Brushing fingers - ah, so close.  Her preference had never been for delicacy, but her hands were caressing when they should have seized flesh, bedclothes, hair - turned the lithe form of the woman embracing her into an instrument for her pleasure.  And even as her desire surged, yet her limbs loosened, and fell limp.  Yes, she would slip into the embrace of night.  "Show me.  I wish to see.  I fear I have always been a woman of little faith.  Scarcely can I believe that which I do not see with my own eyes."