My Dm and my dnd companion got really invested in some background itneraction pc/npc and my dm wrote a itty bitty piece of art, that i was given permission to translate. (Maybe @rayxahlia will post their end of this bargaining XD)
When I was born, no one cheered. I know, because I've seen many children being born and there is no need to cheer because their simple being is a blessing from our Lord: a new tool to serve Him best, to act in His name. How could I be sad about it? There's only clarity in being part of His will, all of us Brothers, all of us that live in His House.
And yet, I have three. A Child Name; a True Name; a Name never said. And they are all mine. One, old, which he knows; one that serves Him; and one that I will gain for both.
The pain of the first, inked on my left hand, is one of my first memories. Ink, white on my dark skin, a motif of chains and thorns like any other Brother. I barely remember the second, being more worried about how I could ever show it when they gave me the chain on my back. A single line of black rings from the nape to the last vertebra, perfect and magnificent.
But now we aren't simple Brothers anymore and our duty takes us apart. We are no longer under the same roof anymore, with a void space where one should be, while only His presence gives me the strength and his name is banned from our lips.
And He knows everything, because every thought of mine is His will. His voice is fleeble and He speaks to me rarely, only when it is necessary, but when I lie in the silence and darkness I await His every word.
He has hair like the sky void of stars.
ORIGINAL HERE (in italian)
