The weather was hot and incredibly dry. Many guests sweltered in the heat as they huddled before the steps of the city hall, a decent-sized, low slung building decorated with Weaver Birds; the national animal of Numbani. Like the Numbanians, they built their homes in tight places, were an hardy and sociable bunch, and weren't easy to deter.
Like the bird itself, the people were diverse. Numbani was a truly multicultural city and the dress code had been whatever the person damn well felt was best. Among the blacks were blotches of white, green, red and purple with the occasional metallic head shining in the sunlight. Angela had gone with her own cultures colours and wore a Black suit while hearing the words spoken to the crowd by the Mayor. She did not pretend to understand the words, but their meaning was conveyed. Those who had died would not be forgotten, those who lived would carry on their legacy and Numbani would spring back from this tragedy. Most listened.
There would be other speeches, some from UN representatives, some from Numbani officials and one from Faheera and another from Lucio in the middle. Angela barely listened, however. Faheera was awkward and fumbling as she called for strength and resolve, she was not a good public speaker. Lucio's was far better, speaking of a need to prevent such a tragedy again, but not to let the painful loss to demotivate them in doing so.
After the speeches, the lighting of the torches occurred. Then the ceremony was over. The crowd slowly thinned. It felt bad to leave a funeral, but Angela understood as she took her own exit.
There was still work to do.