Calling your character Bird Lover just ends up with them being referred to sweetly as Lover Bird thanks to the Japanese naming system, but I probably should've seen that one coming.
Burned at the stake with the title character, his lover.
In his weary yet tenacious voice he sang character portraits, lover's regrets, elegies, reminiscences, moral reflections and political complaints.
"Madame Brouette," directed by Moussa Sene Absa from Senegal, opens with the killing of the title character's lover, then uses flashbacks to judge whether she was justified in murdering him.
Like in the previous series, you're able to pick a maiden as your character's lover then start a family of their own in the later part of the game.
Even to refer to some of Mamet's characters as "lovers" feels wrong — like calling a thief a victim.
He presents a mass of detail about their music, individual characters, wives, lovers, friends, spiritual explorations, drug use and business dealings, in an engaging narrative.
By commemorating her in fiction, James was relieved of the duty to eulogize, and, in one reading of the novel, Milly Theale destroys, in complete innocence, the happiness of two other characters, the lovers Kate Croy and Morton Densher.
As you'd expect from Gondry, the characters are lovers of lo-fi technology, romantic dreamers with bad haircuts, who, when told they've grown tall, reply that, no, the world has shrunk.
Except for a terrifying prologue in which motorists are fatally stranded on a rural stretch of road, "Them" concentrates on just two characters — young lovers named Clémentine (Olivia Bonamy) and Lucas Michaël Cohenn) who teach at the French Lycée in Bucharest and live in a huge house in a remote forest.
