NPCs (sog_npc) wrote in sog_ic, @ 2012-08-25 02:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | [npc] hamilton hill, old - aleksandr creote, old - dick grayson, old - edward nigma, old - elizabeth raleigh, old - tim drake |
Laid to Rest
Who: Open To All
NPCs: Hamilton Hill and others.
Where: Gotham Cemetary, Wayne Manor
When: Friday, August 24, Afternoon to Evening
What: Bruce Wayne's funeral, followed by a reception open to many Gothamites.
Rating: PG-13
Status: Plot Related Open
The crowd was large, as expected, despite the grey skies and the rain. A sea of umbrellas, pocked by large tents, covered the hallowed grounds of the Gotham Cemetary. People from all walks were here to honor the dead. Bruce Wayne, a savior of Gotham. Its largest employer, its favorite son, and its modern architect.
Mayor Hamilton Hill presided over the ceremony, and began with a warm greeting, a few light jokes to ease the tension and the mood, and a promise to keep his speech short and devoid of politics. Though some knew that simply being here awarded him political points, there was enough sincerity in his voice to silence any vocal detractors. At least until the evening news and tomorrow's papers came out.
"A man died last week. A rich man, to be sure, and one whose life, while marked by tragedy, could also be considered to be blessed." Hill stood at the podium, hands gripping the corners, while an attendant held an umbrella up for him, the rain coming down as it did in Gotham, often on such stoic days.
"I had the honor of knowing this man, and I can tell you, Gotham City loses more than just a man. They lose his legacy, his generosity, his warmth. Bruce Wayne wasn't just the rich heir to the noble works of his parents, Thomas and Martha. He came to embrace their vision for a better, stronger and vibrant Gotham. Where those seeking work could find it, and where hope could be kindled in making the streets safe, without fear, or the need for dark figures in masks watching over us. He focused not on our nights but on the sunrise that would follow the darkness."
Many nodded at this, including one man near the back, under the cover of an elm tree, his glasses fogged and stroking his white mustache with an errant figure. Many knew Gotham, but Jim Gordon was a stalwart friend to the end. Unlike Hill, however, he did not wish to step forward. There was a lot he wanted to say about the man, much of it he could never say. He looked at Dick and Tim in the crowd, and a few others whose eyes met his. They nodded solemnly at each other. Such was the way of secrets and the bond they forged.
The clouds parted, and blue sky and orange sunlight tipped the storm clouds, though the rain continued its downpour. The Mayor smiled, a strong, minimal gesture, and continued. "The legacy of this man lives on, and we all strive to see it carried on, not only in Bruce's heirs," he nodded to Dick and Tim in the crowd, "but to all of us who worked with him. Bruce Wayne leaves behind an empire dedicated to the good of Gotham City. We are all diminished by his loss, but if we remember the ideals he held, and the goals he strove for, we can be stronger for it. Let his example inspire us all."
He placed his hands in his pockets, folding his speech up as he did. "I know this is what Bruce would want for all of us: to live on, to prosper, to strive and leave a city with a future brighter for our children. His fight is ours, and it is one we will gladly embrace. I leave the podium open to any who would like to share their memories and experiences with Mr. Wayne. Thank you."
Stepping down, Hill took his place in the crowd. The clouds moved as if a storm in a bottle, holding fast over the gathered multitude, as the next person stood up to the podium.