Shiloh nods in thanks.  "I, too," she adds to Woem's explanation, then smiles faintly and turns for the door.  Rather than finding the setting unnerving, she's eerily comforted by the macabre ambiance of the Hallowfaustian's home.  Yet, still, she feels the tug of curiosity... it's not fright at the iconography of death-- no, it's rather that the spirits of this place remind her a bit too much of home.  The necromancer, if he speaks true, is dedicated to the manipulation of the living soul after its body is dead, or else the animation of the dead set to use or to peace.  It says nothing of the spirit... of the ghosts she herself has consumed, that still claw at her from each shadow as if sensing a kinship, or release, in being consumed.<br/><br/>The monk turns once more at the door and bows smoothly to the man before heading into the street beyond.  She locks eyes with the woman of the mask and, after considering her for a moment, is assured that the masked being is not, in fact, a hallucination.  She sighs gently.  "Please report that I've made arrangements to meet with the bat," she tells the figure, "at the Princess, and soon, I will have more information."  She turns to Woem, wondering if he has anything to report, or if he-- like her-- is anxious to get out of the street of ghosts and thugs and get someplace quiet.