"They, of course, had the two others. Courage and Cunning. You like to play, Tito, yes? Cunning came up with the games, Courage made the friends to play them with.
On their own, they would be a perfect, isotonic solution. That little wrench in the gears, unfortunately, was as infectious as it was fragile.
The Soul was entirely unique to every individual of the species. Worse than that, it was transmissible. Common objects, given enough affection, began growing their own.
Of course, the Soul needed its own nourishment. If not cared for, an individual's Soul was liable to shrivel up and die.
Courage and Cunning wouldn't hear it. They tried their best to let every unique Soul prosper and grow, but Tito, there were so many. A few slipped through the cracks.
Some of the more deranged decided to commandeer and subjugate their Courage and their Cunning, abusing them to disrupt the harmony in others.
The race of romantics was easily subjugated by those who didn't care for love."
continue