"The best kind of feast
Is the one you go home from
With food still in your belly
With wits still in your head
With blood still in your veins"

- Goliath Proveb

<log>
Ellywick is very upset. I attempted to ease her upset with a carefully proportioned application of sympathy, liquor and jazz. It had mild theraputic effects, however the unexpected arrival of several innebriated compatriots from out earlier adventure overrode any efforts I might make.

They successfully distracted Ellywick from her present sorrows. Perhaps regular distractions will help temper the effects of heartbreak. I understand the condition can be quite serious and occasionally fatal in meat people. 

Possibly metalfolk as well? I wouldn't know. I am curious if I can fall in love. It was suggested that I have a soul. Both seem unlikely. I am powered by a collection of secrets. Then again, perhaps a soul is just a very powerful secret. 

Maybe a soul is just a self refferential secret. The secret of a soul is what that soul is going to do. 

A soul is the thing that allows people to choose their own path, to assert free will, however souls have destinies, and those destinies can be divined.  From my reading, it appears that once a soul's destiny is known, that soul has less power to self-determine, as though the secret that powers them has been weakened. 

An entertaining thought experiment, but it is too reductive. I do not have a soul any more than a cat or a raven. Like both of those I have ideas, wants, and curiosities, but not destinies, loves, or an afterlife. 

Seeing the sorry state of Ellywick, I cannot say that I am upset 
</log>