<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 - Stairwell<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Asylum clothing<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Exploring<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Medb, open<br/><br/>She rounded the stairwell, mounted a couple of steps, and pressed her hands to the walls.  Dr Noire was a woman of education, no doubt.  Licenses could be bought, but there was a method to the madness in this place.  "You can speak with rats?"  She asked incredulously.  That was not withcraft, that was either a parlour trick or sublime animal training.  "What of horses?"  She smiled to herself, "Though it may sound frivolous, I miss riding.  This place is enclosed and on my estate I had a fine white stallion.  A gelding is good if one wants a tranquil horse, but I prefer the stallion's temperament.  It is more fitting of a cavalrywoman.  I do not know whether he understands my speech, but he is quick to follow commands."<br/><br/>On tiptoe Danae eased up the stairwell, and saw the darkness pierced by a shear of lightning.  She waited for the rumble of thunder to whisper to Medb, "What do you suppose the masks mean?  Do they have any significance on this island?"<br/><br/>She was drawn to the door before her, as though it might pull her in with irresistible, invisible hands.  One thought, however, occupied her mind.  Why did Noire scribble out her true name?  Did it hold power over her, as it did over daemons?  Were the masks part of that process of erasure that Noire had seen fit to inflict upon herself?<br/><br/>"Madame Lorimer," Danae paused, her hands wrapped around the brass door handle, "Can you make our Dr Noire's true name?"  The dull throbbing in her head she remembered from the night she was certain she had seen Polly dance nude and painted in fresh blood around a blazing bonfire resumed.  She needed some laudanum.  It was the only thing that would make the images go away.  In truth, she had lost track of which she had seen and which she had dreamt.