Oh sing sweet Nightingale, sing sweet...
She had been loathe to return, having left with the desire to never set foot in Hollowed Ground again. But fate had a funny way of making her face all the things she would rather not. What had once been home was now tainted with painful memories, memories she knew shaped her, but she did not wish to face. Hopefully, in the time that had passed, she had healed enough to handle this trip.Phoebe had to after all. If there was one person she thought might hear from the Order, it was Amalia. A natural, beloved by Vi, Shield of Safrin - she was as prime a target as anyone for these strange men in suits to approach. The only way she would find out for certain though was to visit. And so it was that the Midwife turned Madame turned Nightingale found herself at the door of the bakery once again, Pim at her side and Branbast on her shoulders.
"Amalia?" she called as she stepped in, looking around for the divinely blessed baker.
...high above me
The Nightingale
