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By all accounts, Jorah’s first and second acts as House Leader of the Golden Deer were going splendidly. Nobody booed, some people paid attention, and only one person got up and left! The mood in the room wasn’t exactly as awash with excitement as he would have liked, but there was a little bit of intrigue floating around, and he had to assume that the people who left quickest were simply eager to go spread the good news of Garreg Mach’s first proper Alliance bash. As far as Jorah was concerned, no tankards lobbed at his head meant this one was a winner. 

Clarissa’s comment earned her a warm smile, especially since she was still raw from the news - and probably would be for some time. [color=FFAB66]“You’re right, I would have,”[/color] he admitted readily, tapping his forehead. [color=FFAB66]“But now, I can say it’s an [i]official[/i] party.”[/color]

Unfortunately, Jorah didn’t get too much time to revel in his flawless exercise of authority. A chill soon crawled up his spine in the form of cool, simmering contempt that swept past like a cold wind. It wasn’t Clarissa; Jorah was intimately familiar with every species of her bad moods, and none of them were so [i]malevolent[/i]. Instead, it came from one of his classmates, accompanied by a frigid whisper: [color=7041A5]"Authority suits you like a cold bath to a cat."[/color] 

[color=FFAB66]“Ha!”[/color] Jorah blurted unexpectedly, the comment clashing so much with the contempt with which it was delivered that it shocked him into laughter. He clapped a jovial hand on the other boy’s back as congratulations for the joke. [color=FFAB66]“I know cats who’d sooner swim to Brigid than me be a House Leader, but hey!”[/color] he shrugged, still chuckling, [color=FFAB66]“Some cats like to swim.”[/color] 

He beamed as he appraised the newcomer: Nathanael Gloucester, son of the late Duke Gloucester, and not a face Jorah ever expected to see at Garreg Mach. Or anywhere, really, after so long cooped up in secret. He’d heard rumours that the boy was reappearing at Roundtable meetings as of late, but Jorah had never substantiated them - he avoided those things with all his might, and when he [i]was[/i] there, he didn’t exactly take notes. But he was thrilled to see Nate nonetheless. With the state he’d been in after his father’s murder, the kid had Jorah worried that he’d never be quite right again. 

Of course, the sour bent of Nate’s mood indicated that he might [i]not[/i] be quite right, but Jorah wouldn’t hold it against him - sometimes he just had that effect on people. 

Soon enough, more of his new subjects approached him, and another squirrely feeling threatened to ruin Jorah’s mood. This time, it came in the form of a stomach-churning anxiety that filled the space like a choking fog, thick and oppressive enough to drown out even Oskar’s famously bubbling enthusiasm. Jorah felt like the room was pressing down on him, his every move being scrutinized to the minutest of details - if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Duke Riegan was standing behind him. Instead, the source was the girl on Oskar’s arm, whom Jorah had noticed before - Isolde Ordelia, daughter of the late Duke Ordelia. 

Oh… oh no. 

It was only in that moment that Jorah clued in to the reason Nate’s mood might have crashed - it wasn’t him after all, but Isolde. Well, that was unfortunate; he could deal with personally being a buzzkill, but that response from Nate was a little more concerning when it was aimed at such an unimposing girl. He sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be tension between the two of them for too long; certainly Nathanael’s feelings were… complicated, but poor Isolde was simply too cute to stay angry with, especially shrinking behind Oskar, and nothing that happened really had anything to do with [i]her[/i]. As far as Jorah was concerned, that whole murder business was a long string of unfortunate events for all involved, and much too depressing to tolerate. Instead, he chose to hold out the optimistic hope that spending a year together would help both of them reconcile and cope with their respective pasts and let them leave Garreg Mach stronger and more compassionate people than they’d come in. 

Of course, there was also a chance they’d try to kill each other, so maybe he should watch out for that. Or tell Clarissa to! She was the one with brains for politics, and healing magic if politics failed. 

But in any case, that would have to wait: Oskar had a [i]very[/i] important question that needed to be addressed. [color=lemonchiffon]“Alright, if we’re going to be showing these people a sincere Alliance party, then you just tell me where and when so I can tell people.”[/color]

Jorah’s grin returned as his friend brought up more pressing matters, all too happy to leave all thoughts of murder and politics behind. [color=FFAB66]“Hm, that would help, wouldn't it?”[/color] he replied, stroking his chin as he thought. He hadn’t really taken into account that he didn’t have a clue what sort of amenities the monastery offered, but he wasn’t that concerned; these things usually worked themselves out. But a meeting place would be a good first step - only, where?

After a moment, it came to him. [color=FFAB66]“The Reception Hall!”[/color] He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Of course! Surely Garreg Mach had a reception hall, right? Everywhere did! And even if it didn’t, it definitely had someplace that could reasonably be [i]called[/i] a reception hall - he’d just have to figure out where it was. [color=FFAB66]“After the last bell. Tell people to bring their dancing shoes!”[/color] 

Clarissa made the crucial mistake of giving Jorah an inch, from which he fully planned to take a mile. [color=FFAB66]“Your counsel is appreciated and I make no oaths to follow it,”[/color] he told her cheerfully, peeling himself away from his adoring subjects as she did the same. Her mood spelled danger, as did the ‘conversation’ she proposed with Nathanael, and Jorah wanted to be as far away as possible when it happened. 

Besides, there was party business to attend to. Starting with… oh! Of course! The other House Leaders! They’d be the perfect vehicles to spread the word down through the other two Houses. Goal in mind, Jorah sprung out into the courtyard, on the lookout for anyone who looked a little bigger for their britches than normal. 

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