"Nightingale." Cedric murmurs feverishly when he first lay eyes upon on her, commanding the auditorium. She was a vision in her flowing gown, her hair shining in the stage lights.

The noble finds himself completely lost in the music each time; every note, every beat, every breath feels as though it's been crafted specifically for him. Drawn like a moth to flame, the sound of her voice is like a clarion call, luring him in as she reaches the crescendo of her aria.