<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>Asylum clothing, changing into Dr Noire's<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Dr Noire<br/><br/>"You can sleep, good Doctor, with all those madwomen outside? Such admirable fortitude." Danae pulled off the odious asylum uniform, discarded it briskly on Dr Noire's floor.  It was warm enough that it did not feel uncomfortable to be nude, nor did she feel vulnerable.  There was something in the Doctor's resignation that almost -<em>almost</em>- inspired pathos. "I trust I am healing well," she continued, for the Doctor had doubtless been adverted to her flogged back, "the captain of the<em>Mercy</em>saw to that.  An impressive woman, Doctor, you should have seen her wield a martinet. I hadn't received a beating like that since school."  From Dr Noire's wardrobe, she appropriated a ruffed shirt, trousers, boots.  The fit was slapdash, but it was the best she could do.  "I was quite vain, once, you know," she said to no-one in particular, and pulled a white ruffle shirt over her head, "everything I wore had to be tailored, just<em>so</em>.  Part of the act, I suppose.  Fortunately Father had the foresight to set aside enough to buy me a commission.  Owning land and conducting the petty transactions of petty gentry is dreadfully dull."<br/><br/>She regarded herself in the mirror, fully dressed, with Dr Noire lying behind her.  A bizarre sight, like something out of an interminable nightmare.  "Can you assure me, Doctor, all of this real?  You speak, as ever, in riddles, and perhaps it is time for me to become accustomed to that.  But tell me this: everything in this place seems destined to futility; you call it a bedlam, and it is now filled with the ravings of the mad.  You and your colleagues hold yourselves out as doctors, and the patients seem nowhere on their path to being cured.  Speak then, plainly, what manner of place is this and what purpose does it truly serve?  If some cataclysm is to strike at dawn, I may as well know."<br/><br/>She went Dr Noire's bed and placed the leatherbound<em>Emalia</em>by the pillow, "This name is of some importance.  Would you care to expound?"