It was a pleasant night. The moons were high in the dark sky, casting pink and green light down on the bustling trolls below. The group of four arrived at a small city inland, preaching to those who wished to listen. Signless and Disciple were tucked into an alcove off the side of a street, telling their stories to the young trolls sitting before them. Psionic was resting not far off, watching as the Dolorosa helped up a fallen child. She tied the little one's shoe and cleaned the dirt from his clothing, sending him off with a kind smile. As she returned to her seat next to him, a thought formed.
"Dolorosa, can I ask you something?" Psionic questioned, a wondering look on his face.
"How did you gain your title? Dolorosa means "grieving", doesn't it?" He asked, looking at her. He continued when she nodded. "But then... who, or what, are you grieving? I don't mean to pry," He added quickly, "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I was just curious"