[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LmRmNGQxMS5RMnhoY21semMyRWdkbTl1SUVWa2JYVnVaQSwsLjAA/allegratta-personal-use.regular.png[/img][/center] [hr] [sub][right][@Obsence Symphony][/right][/sub] Jorah’s introduction perfectly met her expectations of him which meant theater troupe, not dignified noble. While his populist personality worked wonders in less formal settings, instilling a little dignity alongside the enthusiasm would go a long way in reassuring their peers about his reliability. And that meant more than those in the Golden Deer house. The other house leaders would be evaluating and settling their judgement within the first few meetings and they couldn’t afford to alienate the Alliance from potential allies over a lack of professionalism. Goddess help them. This would― Before Clarissa realized what was happening, Jorah grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside with all the grace of a drunk bull in a china shop. She’d learned long ago just to go along with it; Jorah could be as bullheaded as herself but only when he was determined to escape his father’s clutches. He hadn’t even let the others introduce herself and the girl with the shock of pink hair had caught her attention. It all but screamed Goneril but last she was aware, Duke Goneril went through wives like garments because none of them bore him an heir. And to think there was once something dignified about that man. When Jorah finally stopped them, Clarissa sent him an unimpressed look and quickly snatched away her hands. [color=FF650E] “Have you even considered what you just did? You stole me away as quickly as you pleased from our peers and removed us from full public view in which I then had my hands pressed to your chest. To the unsuspecting eye, our behavior is incredibly improper and I’d prefer not to start this year beating down false assumptions.”[/color] Clarissa grumbled, a sigh bubbling out at the pitiful look on his face. He was too good at that these days. She’d hoped growing up would make it less endearing but apparently the Goddess had a wicked sense of humor. [color=FF650E]“Our feelings are irrelevant to the situation. The only lingering irritation I harbor is for myself and myself alone. I know how my Crest works; I can’t rightly take that out on anyone, much less you. I agree what is done is done. We’ll make the best of it. What was it you said to me…”[/color] It felt like ages ago, that time in their cave when she felt like her entire world was collapsing down around her and Jorah managed to make the weight so much lighter with little more than his antics. It was a wonderful memory now; Duke Riegan’s face of shock and betrayal afterwards still sending her into laughing fits behind closed doors. [color=FF650E] “[i]Pssh[/i], like you could get rid of me.”[/color] Clarissa giggled as she parroted Jorah’s words back at him. She propped one hand on her hip while she continued. [color=FF650E] “Of course I’ll help. What kind of friend would I be if I let you stumble around like a newborn colt? Whenever you need advice, you know my doors are open. Which brings up an important point. Have you found someone to replace your sister? You’re no good to anyone strung out like a paranoid drunkard.”[/color] That wasn’t a concern sh’;d considered before now and the worry gnawed in her stomach. Her emotions were too “loud” (she still didn’t full grasp whatever that meant) for Jorah to relax around when he was overwhelmed and she knew Raimund, despite his veneer of suavity and sophistication, was as an excitable toddler as Jorah himself so the two friends he knew off the bat would only to serve to make it worse. His sister was calm and quiet and she knew sometimes he needed to recharge around her to make everything settle down but she wasn’t here so it was imperative he find another sanctuary as quickly as possible. She didn’t need him wilting away in a room on his own.