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Malodore hadn't ever seen much in the way of fine arts, other than Ettore's work, the frescos around the Casa, assorted images in books, and whatever was hanging on the walls of the various dormitories. Not that dorm decor counted as fine art; no matter what the demons thought, half the stuff in there was not fine art. It was just tacky, at least in Malodore's opinion.

Thus, in the interest of Experiencing New Things, the plague doctor had ventured into Halloween Town proper to examine a genuine gallery, a display of ostensibly certified Fine Art, or so it assumed. It had been expecting to be deeply moved, of course.

It was, instead, deeply puzzled. To the plague doctor's mind, Fine Art was marked by skillful rendering and accurate depiction. This appeared to be just paint slopped onto canvases, without even any interesting FEAR-infusions...

Yet, as it rounded the corner into the next room of the gallery, what it saw gave it pause. Not the art, but instead the small winged form staring at another piece. Valkyrie. Not... not Brynhild, no; her hair was different. But perhaps she might know the little ghoul that Malodore itself had once known?

Suddenly nervous, Malodore sidled up to the ghoul. "Ah... buon giorno?" it said, making a game attempt at starting the conversation.

"Ah! Si, sorry to bother you, I just... you remind me of someone I used to know," it said, awkwardly. "A young Valkyrie girl by the name of Brynhild, ah..."

Of course, now that it had actually spoken, it felt a bit stupid. There had to be hundreds of valkyries in Halloween, if not more; it knew there were other plague doctor houses, but it had never met a plague doctor not of its own family. The same was probably true for her.

Malodore tensed, its eyes widening behind the lenses - surely not, surely she was thinking of another valkyrie. There was no way... "A-ah, perhaps... she would be small..." It gestured at her approximate height. "And... thin, though perhaps not thin now, once she got better. She was ill for a very long time, ah..."

Its beak closed with a clap, as if stunned. It truly had no idea what to say.

"Da tutto ciò che è profano," Malodore said, very quietly."It is... the very same, it must be. So she is well, then? Happy and healthy and enjoying her life?"

It asked the question almost fearfully, as if it could not bear to hear the answer. Hel's own query went unanswered, for now.

Savior. Unexpectedly, tears prickled at Malodore's eyes; it blinked them away. "I, ah... si. I am Malodore," it said, after a moment. For some reason it couldn't quite name, it was reluctant to identify itself as the mentioned 'savior'. "I am glad that she is doing well," it added, quickly.

Of course she would ask how it knew Brynhild - it was a perfectly normal question, under the circumstances. But the words still made a sudden chill run down Malodore's spine. It had healed the young Valkyrie girl, yes, but it had done so in defiance of the treatment her family had sought. It had broken faith with them in a sense...

But it had also cured their daughter. And Hel had spoken of Brynhild's savior. "I saw her in the, ah... the Casa Cirurgien. Where she was cared for by plague doctors, si..." It hesitated, unsure of how much else it should say. It was entirely possible that Brynhild's family would be angry or offended by the incident, despite everything.

"Ah, si, I was there..." Malodore began, then relaxed as she suggested moving somewhere else. "Of course. You also attend Amityville Academy, do you not? If so, our paths carry us the same way."

Which meant, of course, that it would have to explain later. Should explain, really; Malodore sighed inwardly. Why was it so concerned? It had a thousand things it could be worrying about that were of more significance to its current existence than Brynhild's fate... and yet, it had always hoped she had gone on to a better and happier life. That it had made her fate better, not worse...