On the flight to Rabanastre to see Ashe, the Marquis had ordered a cup of black coffee. The nervous waitress carried it to him, her hands jittering madly. When she reached him, he said, "Thank you, sweetheart," and it startled her so badly that she spilled it down the Marquis' front.
He hissed-it was hot-but the girl fled, wailing. He stared after her, bewildered, and then moved to the bathroom to change his shirt and then back to the café where he insisted on getting his own cup of coffee.
These events had him grumpy by the time that they landed, and he ignored the greetings of the Rabanastre's aerodromes workers and the people, the common Humes, trying to get his attention.
Thankfully, an entourage from the palace arrived after a second and he moved quickly to the castle where his niece was waiting to throw her arms around him. He hugged her tight and pulled back, examining her at arms length. "You look far too beautiful."
"And you look far too young. Time appears to have stopped for you." She grinned at him and tugged his hand. "We have much to talk about."
She led him to the dinning hall where they sat together with a bottle of wine. Ashe waited for him to ask his questions.
"Have you seen them?" he finally asked.
"Oh yes. I've snuck out a fair few times to take my shoes off and run with them." She smiled and lifted her skirts to show her knees, presenting a glowing bruise on her right shin. "I took a fall."
He laughed and sat back. "How are they?"
"They miss you." She shifted, staring at him anxiously. She had something else to say.
"Yes, milady?"
"Why do you not step down? There is an heir behind you, your cousin, to take the position, and they would be so happy if you just went home."
Her words struck him and he leaned back in his chair again to think about it. He'd had permanent residence in Bhujerba his entire life, and as a young man, he'd been terrified of leaving the house. But now, his home was with them, and yet he wouldn't stay. He returned to Bhujerba each time.
"Perhaps 'tis time I did," he said thoughtfully.
"Leave after midnight," she told him. "You can make it there by morning."
He did leave just after midnight. He changed his clothes, leaving his "rich clothes" and dressing in brown and dusty white robes, his head covered with a scarf, save his eyes. A guard might have taken him for a night thief. The thought made him laugh.
He vaulted onto a chocobo with a bit of help from one of the stable boys, and he rode expertly into the Giza plains.
He arrived before dawn, but the Garif were already starting to move around. He was greeted by one of the youngsters, a Garif called Asdalu. He helped the Marquis down and bounced on his heels. "It has been a long time, Marquis."
"That it has," he said, dusting himself off and unwrapping his face. "Where is the War-Chief?"
"Still asleep. He is feeling the effects of age, lately."
"Ah, who isn't," the Marquis said thoughtfully and walked through the village, waving at the Garif that he had come to know so well, and stopping to meet some of the newer, younger ones that may not have known him as well. Asdalu kept near him, obviously watching him for signs of fatigue.
"You have grown, Asdalu, since I last saw you."
"Five inches and sixty-seven pounds," the Garif bounced again, looking particularly proud of his gain.
"Good Gods!"
"Goromu is angry. I am significantly larger than he, now." He had his chin pointed up, and the Marquis could only imagine the sunny smile painted on the youngster's face.
"Are you staying out of trouble?" the Marquis asked as they neared their destination.
Asdalu hesitated, looking timid, then simply said, "No."
Ondore laughed, patting the young Garif on the shoulder and moving to enter the War-Chief's tent. "Say hello to Goromu for me, Asdalu."
"I will be sure to, Your Excellency," the Garif bowed.
"Please. Not here. I am not royalty among your people, Asdalu." He smiled softly, leaning on one of the sturdy posts that supported the tent.
"Very well, Halim. I am going to hunt now…any requests?"
"Yes, actually," Ondore said, and Asdalu looked surprised. The Marquis usually ate whatever was cooked without complaint.
"The last time I was here, someone thought it clever to prepare serpent. I refuse to ever eat anything remotely similar to that again."
The Garif snorted in laughter and waved, then turned and departed.
War-Chief Supinelu started when he felt a hand slide from his neck to behind his ear. He looked up and calmed, lifting his head and shifting over so that Ondore could sit beside him.
"Finally decided to show yourself, hm?" His eyes seemed to smile at Ondore and the Hume grinned and then swooned a bit. "Careful," Supinelu muttered, helping him lay down. "You have been up all night."
"Always pointing out the obvious," Ondore smiled. Already the man looked exhausted. He closed his eyes and smiled when the War-Chief put an arm around his waist.
"Someone has to," the Garif muttered. "Else we would all forget the obvious."
Ondore laughed and closed his eyes. The Garif had rolled off of his horns and onto his side, and Ondore tucked his head under Supinelu's chin.
"Sleep as long as you need," the War-Chief whispered, his sharp-nailed hand sliding up the back of the Hume's neck, into his hair. "I shall see you when you wake."