[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/cd6fc343-6dbd-4ce9-9493-e893103813a0.png[/img][/center][right][sub][@Achronum][/sub][/right]
The afternoon with Imogen went quickly, very much similar to a raucous night of partying where the sun seems to show up much too far ahead of schedule. The two of them easily clicked, playing off each other’s energy in a whirlwind of snappy back-and-forths, and they had a rollicking good time exploring the grounds and nearby village. Garreg Mach really was a beauty, and Jorah had already begun a mental account of pathways, hiding places, and other haunts he was sure he’d be referring to throughout the school year. The scale of the place was beyond Jorah’s expectations, the mountains were terrifying and breathtaking, and all told he was even more secure in his judgement that it had been a terrible, [i]terrible[/i] idea on his father’s part to send him here. 

All the more reason to love the place!

But good things must come to an end, and much like those raucous nights of partying, there always came a time when he had to leave the pub, unsteady and red-faced, and stumble his way back home. Jorah bid his farewells to Imogen at the dorms, but, daunted by the prospect of so many trunks to unpack, didn’t find his own just yet; instead, he decided to take one last lap of the monastery grounds. He didn’t have much of a destination in mind, just wanted to soak up the atmosphere without the titter of laughter in his ear. 

Alas, as much joy as Imogen’s company brought him, it was quickly apparent that her company would be demanding to maintain. He loved her energy, fed off it; she alone had the same energy as a riled up tavern crowd five ales deep, and it was that exact sort of high he spent his life chasing. But for every high, there was a crash, and Jorah was feeling it: like the ringing in one’s ears after a long bout of cheering, he could feel his soul still buzzing with energetic fervor. He’d never say it out loud, but at the end of the day, it was taxing. This was the time, back home, when he’d seek his sister’s company; her aura was the ocean to his gale, and when he was with her, he could sink into its calm depths and escape the mania for a moment. Granted, he always returned to the chaos, but those moments of reprieve were the rest he needed to keep going back. 

But here, he didn’t have his sister to run to, did he? He vaguely recalled Clarissa bringing up that very issue. But certainly it wouldn’t cause [i]that[/i] big of a problem, would it? Sure, her company was ideal back home, where the only alternatives were his father’s disapproval and the numbness of solitude, but maybe Garreg Mach would be different. The place was a town in its own right, people of all stripes always crawling around; he wasn’t sure he could be completely alone in this place even if he wanted to. Maybe he could make do with the occasional calm walk on his own. 

[hider=Hellooo Nurse!]Said calming walk eventually brought him to the cathedral; specifically, after a long moment of gazing out at the view from the bridge, it brought him to a door leading to the cathedral’s second floor. It never occurred to Jorah that cathedrals [i]had[/i] second floors - wasn’t all the space taken up by the tall vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows? - but it wasn’t like him to question these things, simply to explore them. 

At the top of the stairs and down a few hallways, he was surprised to stumble upon a fully-outfitted infirmary, complete with what looked like a few village locals convalescing in beds with curtains stretched between them. The aura in the room was… odd, in a way. Walking into a room full of sick people, he’d have expected feelings of dread, fatigue, fear, maybe even relief, but the place felt… subdued. Like a heavy blanket had been laid down on top of it, muffling all the emotional “sounds” underneath. It was calm, in a way, but definitely strange; magic, perhaps? To help the sick people rest? He had no idea. 

Jorah was squinting around the room, puzzled and oblivious to his intrusion, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

[color=palegreen]“Excuse the delay!”[/color] Kaira stepped out from behind a divider in a hurry, hastily cleaning her hands as she rushed to the entrance. She stopped as she saw Jorah, giving him a warm smile. [color=palegreen]“Oh, hello! I...oh!”[/color] She turned towards a small desk with a pitcher and several small towels, placing it down before wiping her hands.

[color=palegreen]“There we go,”[/color] She said, giving him her full attention. [color=palegreen]“Welcome to the infirmary! Did you need healing?”[/color]

Jorah nearly jumped at the voice, though any surprise quickly drained out of him as the infirmary attendant - who he recognized as the pretty green-haired woman from orientation - drew near. The vibe in the room seemed to shift as she did so, the muffling effect he’d noticed before growing a bit stronger as she approached. She must have been the source of it, then; almost like his sister’s calming aura, but with a totally foreign flavour. Man, Garreg Mach was full of emotional anomalies, wasn’t it? 

That said, it was hard to think on those logistics for too long with a soft pair of sea green eyes staring at him, and Jorah shook his head, a charming grin sliding easily onto his face. [color=FFAB66]“Oh, no, terribly sorry for the confusion,”[/color] he excused himself smoothly, looking around once more for good measure. 

But his eyes were quick to snap back to the attending girl, with a very conscious effort not to travel down her body and up again - she seemed like the shy type who might not take a fancy to that. [color=FFAB66]“You’re… Kaira, who likes praying, I remember,”[/color] he suddenly recalled from introductions, perching a hand on his hip. [color=FFAB66]“Are you the one in charge here?”[/color]

[color=palegreen]“Right on both of those!”[/color] Kaira replied cheerfully. [color=palegreen]“I’m glad you remembered! And I remember you as well, Jorah.”[/color] She returned the favor as she placed her hands behind her back, openly looking him over.

[color=palegreen]“Are you injured?”[/color] She ended up asking, seemingly not finding anything wrong with him. [color=palegreen]“Or...did you come to see me?”[/color]

Well he’d certainly come [i]back[/i] to see her now, Jorah thought with a grin, though he gave Kaira a shrug. [color=FFAB66]“Nah, I’m not the one who challenged a Knight of Seiros to a duel,”[/color] he chuckled, though a quick glance around revealed the Aegir boy nowhere in sight. [color=FFAB66]“I’m just getting the lay of the land, exploring the buildings, opening doors I probably shouldn’t…”[/color] he gave Kaira a wink. 

[color=FFAB66]“Though if I [i]were[/i] to come to see you, what might I see you for?”[/color] He asked, voice as smooth and sweet as honey. He let the question hang suggestively for a moment, then added, [color=FFAB66]“I’m afraid with so many names to remember, I don’t recall which subject you teach.”[/color]

Despite the smile never leaving her face, Kaira slowly raised her eyebrows, the smallest giggle escaping her before she regained her composure. [color=palegreen]“Ah, yes, I don’t envy your position,”[/color] she replied lightheartedly, a hand on her cheek. [color=palegreen]“I’m the school nurse, but I will also be teaching white magic for your classes. Even if you never learn it, it’s important to know your faith. But I figured you would have guessed that finding me in the infirmary.”[/color]

[color=FFAB66]“Eh, I try not to judge,”[/color] Jorah replied with a shrug, though his smile was similarly cemented, especially seeing as Kaira seemed receptive. [color=FFAB66]“I wouldn’t have guessed Professor Kalonic would start whipping her brother like a rented mule, but here we are. For all I know, you fill your time between patients hurling javelins from wyvernback.”[/color] He chuckled through the last few words, enjoying the mental image of sweet and gentle-looking Kaira smiting down death from above, when he remembered something else. 

[color=FFAB66]“But speaking of free time, you wouldn’t happen to have any tonight, would you?”[/color] he asked coyly. [color=FFAB66]“On recommendation from my friend, several of us are getting together sometime tonight. Kick off the year with a bang.”[/color] He smiled, though something mischievous glinted in his eye; a look Clarissa would probably have glared at him for if she was around to see it. [color=FFAB66]“I’m sure we’d all love to have you - unless it’s uncouth for professors to hang out with students, but if I may say so, Miss Kaira, you’d blend in seamlessly with either.”[/color] 

Kaira couldn’t quite hold in her laugh at the mention of Euphemia, though she did recover in time to shake her head. [color=palegreen]“That [i]was[/i] entertaining, but no, no javelins. I do love swordplay, though,”[/color] She admitted that much with a small shrug. [color=palegreen]“It’s always good to have multiple options on the battlefield.”[/color]

At the invitation, she gave him a surprised look. After thinking about it for a second, she let out a tiny hum, hand on her chin. [color=palegreen]“How forward. But I can’t very well say no to that, now can I?”[/color] She asked. [color=palegreen]“You don’t think my presence would make everyone uncomfortable?”[/color]

Hm, Jorah thought with a grin, if she thought [i]that[/i] was forward, then he was happy he went with his softer approach. Swordplay, though, that [i]was[/i] unexpected. He had the funny thought that she and Clarissa would get along famously, but that he should also make a point to keep them separated lest Clarissa try to “warn” her about him; last time she tried her hand at that public service, it ended with a drink thrown in his face before he could even get out a proper hello. 

But Kaira’s question gave him pause, and he raised an eyebrow. [color=FFAB66]“Whatever for?”[/color] he asked in return, gesturing to Kaira. [color=FFAB66]“A party doesn’t even [i]begin[/i] until a beautiful lady walks in; Miss Kaira, your attendance is basically mandatory.”[/color] 

He shot her a suggestive look, but capped it with a chuckle, waving the thought away. [color=FFAB66]“Besides, if my dear friend Raimund works his magic, more than a few of us will be stumbling before long. We may very well need a healer around.”[/color] 

The green haired girl couldn’t help but shake her head at his comment, the smile on her face just a touch wider. As he continued, it fell as she considered it. She teetered for a moment, eventually closing her eyes. [color=palegreen]“Mmm...alright, then,”[/color] She finally responded, clasping her hands in front of her. [color=palegreen]“Though I think I’ll attend as a...colleague, instead of a professor.”[/color] 

Jorah’s face lit up at the answer. [color=FFAB66]“Excellent!”[/color] he exclaimed, clapping his hands once before realizing he probably shouldn’t disturb the patients around him. [color=FFAB66]“We’ll be thrilled to have you - or at least, I know I will.”[/color] 

He shot Kaira one last charming smile before it dawned on him that he really was holding her up from her work. Normally, he’d be fine with that - Goddess only knew how many barmaids he’d made late for their shifts in his time - but something about the sick and recovering people lining the walls felt a little more pressing than a few flagons of ale waiting to be served. 

[color=FFAB66]“Well then, with that settled, I won’t keep you any longer,”[/color] he decided, though it still pained him to part so soon. [color=FFAB66]“I’ll see you tonight!”[/color] 

[color=palegreen]“Aw, leaving so soon?”[/color] Kaira asked, feigning shock. [color=palegreen]“I see, you got what you wanted and are on your merry way.”[/color]

Though before Jorah could reply, she let out a laugh, giving him a small wave. [color=palegreen]“I’ll see you tonight, then,”[/color] She picked up a nearby tray and disappeared behind the closest divider.

“What? No, wai--” Jorah’s shock was genuine at Kaira’s reply, and he reached out futilely as she vanished behind a divider. But alas, she was gone, deaf to his pleas, blind to his remarkably stage-play-like gestures. A bitter day indeed, to have two new loves slip through his fingers! But Jorah had to smirk at Kaira’s teasing nonetheless; he’d expected a shrinking violet after that halting introduction back in class, but it seemed she had a playful streak he was very interested in seeing more of. And, as luck would have it, he [i]did[/i] get what he wanted; hopefully he’d see more of that attitude tonight. 

With his satisfaction at coaxing Kaira to the party mostly balancing out his dissatisfaction at cutting their conversation too short, Jorah decided that this was as good a time as any to finally head back to his dorm and took his leave, winding his way back through the Monastery paths to the dormitory building. [/hider]
[center][color=FFAB66]~ \\\ ~[/color][/center]
While “unpacking” was a strong term for what Jorah was doing in his dorm until dinner, it still took just about every spare moment he had. Naturally, he’d brought several trunks with him, but instead of the clothes his servants back home had so lovingly packed, several of them contained certain treasures he’d made sure to hide from his father’s prying eyes. The challenge, then, was remembering which went where.

It wasn’t long before the room was an explosion of opened trunks and uniform pieces carelessly tossed aside as he dug through them, but eventually he did secure his most important possessions. Naturally, he’d brought his bow, a lovely handcrafted affair in dark wood protected by an equally exquisite case, and took some time to properly mount it on the wall; on the contrary, wedged into another trunk, almost too big to fit and hidden by only a thin layer of laundry, was a plain, beat-up box with nothing remarkable about it save for the fact that something so drab could belong to a noble. Ah, but appearances did deceive, and Jorah opened the box to find one of his most prized possessions, a lute he’d commissioned in secret from a luthier in Derdriu. It, too, was plain, a simple peasant’s design, but it was well-worn and broken-in, and Jorah was convinced the sound it produced rivalled any overly ornate model in the hands of any stuffy court musician, any day. He set the lute carefully on a stand in the corner behind the mirror, where he couldn’t accidentally knock it over when he inevitably stumbled home in a drunken stupor. 

The final diamond in the rough of uniforms and linens was hidden expertly among his toiletries: a few small but precious vials of pigment, a jar of binding gel, and some delicate brushes. Such materials for making paint might not have been so suspicious, but his father knew well that Jorah was no artist - not on canvas, anyway. No, these were supplies for making body paint, a habit Jorah had picked up from Brigid sailors, and one that his father hated from the very first. Consequently, it was one of Jorah’s favourite things; partly to satisfy his fascination with the foreign, and partly because it pissed Duke Riegan off. 

As soon as he found his paints, any illusion of unpacking was thrown out the window. He immediately fished out his favourite pigments and brush, alongside a little palette made of thin wood and stained with years of pigment, and situated himself on the floor in front of the mirror, setting to work. 

By the time the dinner bell rang, he was just adding the finishing touches: tonight, he adorned his face with a few petal-shaped markings on his nose and the outer corners of his eyes. If he recalled correctly, these were supposed to invoke air spirits for luck, and as such, it was a design he returned to often; one could never have enough luck, and especially not to kick off a year of new adventures. 

Jorah put his paints aside at the toll of the bell, happier than he probably should have been that he didn’t need to hide them, and pulled himself up off the floor with a long stretch before following his growling stomach to the dining hall. Fish seemed to be the theme of the evening, and he wouldn’t complain; no fish dango tonight, unfortunately, but sweet-and-salty whitefish was a close second, and Jorah snuck two servings while a server’s back was turned before making a speedy escape to the nearest open seat.

And it appeared that his lucky face paint was working, because it just so happened that he’d plopped himself down blindly right across from Clarissa. 

[color=FFAB66]“Hey! Long time, no see,”[/color] he greeted her heartily, tucking into his meal without so much as a breath. Clarissa was emanating a rare and wholesome joy - compliments of that two-fish saute, no doubt. Good for her; hopefully his sudden appearance wouldn't sour the mood [i]too[/i] much. 

After a few hasty bites he tracked down a napkin, coming up for air long enough to ask, [color=FFAB66]“How was church?”[/color]

[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8ee83226-1695-4044-ab2b-9ae88beef451.png[/img][/center]