Layla had nagged him for a week straight. Zahrah had stared at him with accusatory eyes while Rasha bawled and Nuri hid behind his mother's silk-clad legs. The only one who had not attempted to make him feel guilt for not returning to the family household sooner was the older son, and then only because Malik squandered their shore leave on childish games as far away from Zozeko as he could get.
Still, it was only a week of his life and he could consider his paternal duties complete. He had taken care of as much zubaidin business as he could manage in such a short time, checked over Layla's own dealings to be sure she was still faithful and trustworthy, and managed to dodge most of Atuf's requests for a true homecoming without, he felt, endangering their status quo.
He was now standing on a wooden dock in Marport, preparing to bid his family farewell. Nuri had finally come out from behind the shield of his mother and sisters to cling to Zozeko's boot as if he had not wasted a full week hiding. “Let go, boy. Your sisters have spoiled you. You cannot call yourself a man if you cower and cling,” he chastised in Zanaryan. The youngest of his children were sadly more comfortable speaking Elysian than their native tongue, hence his refusal to use anything but Zanaryan.
The young boy burst into tears and was scooped up into Zahrah's arms to be shushed. She herself was little more than a child, yet the glare she gave him matched her mother's and her aunt's. Zozeko's eyebrows drew together and the stars dangling from his wing-claws jingled as he repostured. “Wife, do not teach your daughter such things. How will we ever find a husband for her if her face is ruined by these scowls?” All three women huffed; Zahrah began to retaliate but was shushed by her mother's gentle hand on her arm. “Women are so free here.” He sniffed in disdain but said no more on the subject — mostly because Malik chose then to sandwich himself between them so he could rub noses first with Nuri and then with Rasha. As the boy turned to hug his Aunt Nasira, Zozeko's attention was drawn by the thud of a sack falling onto the dock.
“'Urry up, Zeko, cap'n wants to get off. C'mon, lad, Luc's lookin' fer ya.” Malik waved to acknowledge the veiled command, scooped his mother and baby Rasha into another hug, and dashed off up the ramp. Zozeko lingered on the dock to collect Hodge Podge from Nuri's pocket.