Willow

Duchess Graces Gotham

…The duchess of Markovia was spotted exiting Gotham Central Station yesterday afternoon with longtime bodyguard, Daniel Gaten. Sources say she was seen getting into a black town car with her younger half brother, Vincent Iyer…

The train came to a screeching, shuddering halt inside the terminal. Verity braced herself as it gave one final lurch forward, though her bodyguard seemed unaffected by the sudden stop. He stood and offered a hand to help her up. She ignored him and shouldered her backpack as a grumbling voice crackled over the staticky intercom,

“We - crack - have arrived at - crack - ham Central Station. Plea - crack -xit the train ca - crack - orderly fashion. Thank y -”

Verity missed the last bit of the conductor’s message as someone shoved her out the door, nearly losing her backpack to the crowd.

“Keep it movin’, lady. Come on!” A strange man spat, pushing past her. It was a much less gracious welcome than she had hoped for. Gaten growled and moved to go after the man, but she stopped him.

“The assault charge isn’t worth it, Gaten.”

She adjusted her pack and shuffled through the terminal, sliding a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. The crowd thickened as they neared the exit - people trying to move in all directions. Never a fan of large crowds, Verity ducked and dodged her way outside as quickly as she could, Gaten ever at her heels.

Glaring afternoon light greeted her outside the terminal. She didn't remember Gotham being anything but cloudy and gray. Granted, she didn't remember much of Gotham at all. Still. How ironic that it should be sunny for a funeral.

Vincent had texted her while she was on the train to say the rest of her belongings had arrived at the manor earlier that morning. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it with her thumb print.

V: Outside. Are you here?

Vin: Black town car. Pulling up now.

Stuffing her phone in her back pocket, Verity marched down the front steps of the terminal into the sweltering heat of Gotham’s late summer. Black town cars were a dime a dozen and lined the street outside the terminal. Of course. Nothing could ever be easy.

The back window of one such vehicle rolled down and Vincent Iyer waved his sister over, an exasperated expression on his pale face. Verity dodged her way through the foot traffic to the street where he opened the door for her. She slid into the seat next to him, dumping her backpack on the floor and pulling the door shut, forcing Gaten to sit up front.

“Hullo, Verity.” He greeted, not taking his eyes from his phone screen.

“Vincent. Charming as always, I see.” She teased, welcoming the cool of the AC and letting out a small sigh as she buckled herself in. Not much, it appeared, had changed since she’d last seen him. It was a relief, she supposed. For her brother to still be the same sweet, shy boy. Though he had gone from a spindley twelve to a wiry sixteen.

He grinned sheepishly and tucked the device away, “Sorry. I thought we’d just go right home. Maybe order a pizza for dinner. The wake and funeral are both tomorrow. We both could probably use the sleep before then. There’s a gala this Friday. I already said both of us would attend. I know you hate them, but there’s been a lot of speculation about you being a duchess and all. I thought it would be good for us to go together. People will have questions, but you won’t have to face them alone.”

Verity nodded, noticing the purplish circles under her brother’s eyes. Strawberry blond hair stuck out in all directions. She looked down at his hands resting on his lap. He absentmindedly picked at his thumbs. Nails bitten down to stubs.