You love her so much to the point that you would be lost without her / You love her as much as I need you. / You love her / And me without you, I shiver in full sunlight …
« And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love, grey clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above. »
There’s a story about a City who loved a human once, and fell with him. It’s a story every City teaches the younger ones, to warn them.
The thing is that the world tends to forget that by killing herself Pompeii killed also her little brother. Herculaneum had lived in her shadow for centuries. He loved and idolized her more than anything. He washed her tears away when her lover passed away. He held her hand in her shivering nights. He begged her that morning. But as passionate lovers can be, she stand selfish in front of him, unable to live without love. She assured him that she will always love him but that his love for her wasn’t enough. She said it in front of him, not realizing that her decision would affect more than herself.
We still don’t know why he comitted suicide. Was it because he couldn’t stand to live without his sister by his side ? Or because he was horrified by the consequences of her act ? We will never know.
“If they’d actually met Rome they’d be horrified. Woman drank like- well- like me.”
“None of us came to that battle; we were all hungover from Prague’s birthday party.”
- He’s a killer, Enjolras.
- Then someone ought to have the decency to bring him to justice.
THE PEOPLE CALLED THEM THE CITIES ➝ Rouen (Dustin Hoffman).
« There are some Cities who take the ‘only watch’ concept far too seriously. »
He always watch. In silence. He watched his areas plundered by Vikings. He watched his cathedral burnt. He watched his people starving by kings. He watched civils wars tearing apart families. He watched plague coming into each of his homes. He watched Jeanne d’Arc, the hope of France, being treated as a simple object. He watched religions tearing themselves, unable to live peacefully together, and killing his own children. He watched wars withdrawing all love from his people.
There was only one time he didn’t only watch. In 1572, after the Massacre of St Bartholomew, he tried to protect part of his people, the Protestants, by keeping close to him, under his monk clothes. Unfortunately, he failed. And he watched men, women, children being slaughtered by his own people. He never tried again.