"One grows accustomed to the queer sounds- the lamentations at night, the howling ocean, the groaning manor. You must have foreseen the frantic night ahead of you, when you accepted my key."<br/><br/>A playful cat's piqued eyes followed the slash of candlelight across Danae's naked silhouette. Her fingers were upon the lace mask, ready to hide behind it, but the moment passed.<br/><br/>"Forgive me then for being indirect, mademoiselle. We are beholden to appearances here, and it would put my station in jeopardy to overstate that which you can independently sleuth with but a brass key and a warning. You have rebuked her, the Red Woman, and now she rages in her prison. We will all suffer, when she returns."<br/><br/>A place was made for Danae on the dark-patterned bed, pale legs drawn up to Doctor Noire's body. She inspected the tome, and in trying to read, discovered for herself that the familiar spine from Doctor Rehner's shelf had never truly been a book at all. Unfolding it between her knees, and then placing it back was enough.<br/><br/>"Doctor Rehner approached me in Darkon with an offer to push my research to new frontiers here on the island. Here we would treat truly hopeless cases without oversight, as the science directed. Doctor Rehner bid me determine whether...within the void left when a truly broken mind is scoured clean, the habits of a more worthy person might take residence. This dead woman, Emalia, is whom she intended to evoke."<br/><br/>"A patient is brought quiescent through treatment, and my work is to ensure something else fills the void. We are none of us reasonably sure just what that is. Their malleability does not arise from innocence, the sight of their own faces grieves them. There is something wrong, and at the root of all that is wrong on the island is the terrible Red Woman."