Standard disclaimer. I don’t own them, I don’t profit from them, but they insist on telling me their stories, so I’m sharing them with you.
This story picks up immediately after my previous Soval story, May 3’s “Put Your Eyebrow Down” , but you don’t need to have read that one to get the gist of this one…
“You believe the accusations false.”
“It doesn’t square with what I know about him.”
“There is logically much about any individual that remains unknown to others.” Soval remembered – The serenity of night on the Forge, T’Khut a magnetic resonance above, reflections diffracted by obsidian; absorbed by sandstone.
Superfluous beauty, because he feels the plant germinate, and he is compelled to the place where the entropy grows to tantalize him. The moment taboo; alien to logic, unchangeable once committed to. Will he choose to intercede in the life cycle, and take the nectars?
He pulled his hand back, in logical withdrawal.
What did the younger Soval retreat from?
Did he make the right choice?
Where is the emotional wound?