It took a steady grip in the reins to lead her nervous steed across the gangplank and onto the ship, but Juris had a strong will and the toned muscle immortalized in classical sculpture. She led the beast across the deck, where its restless snorting helped clear a path belowdecks, through the rough sailors. But even without the horse, her confident body language promised swift and severe punishment for untoward advances. She was unafraid even to go alone down into the hold, and take the time to break apart a bale of hay for her horse's bedding. Each day she would come down and tend to him, but a four cot room was no place for a draft horse to stay.<br/><br/>And a trip by boat was no place for full armor.<br/><br/>When she returned to the room, she was already unfastening the straps of her armor. "I'm not blessed with the night eyes of you or my charge. I should take a daylight watch." Her mail unfastened to free sloped and natural breasts, and her cape unclasped from her finely muscled shoulders. The perspiration of carrying more than a hundred pounds of equipment beaded on her skin as she unfolded a change of clothes from her bag. "if the other passengers worry you, I'll be happy to overlap my shift with yours, Amerynth."<br/><br/>A clinging white dress shirt, more than illustrative of the form beneath it, slinked onto her shoulders. Tiny white buttons fastened almost invisibly down to her navel but no farther. "I find sailors are a little more couth when in the presence of a holy woman." Her raven hair was always kept in check by her armor, and without it, full voluminous body came quickly. A hundred brushes each day to keep it shining and straight and pooled like silk across her shoulders. "Often it's harmless, though. The attention they give you is something some women would savor." Her voice was not jealous, but curious, and always composed, even when she was taking off her pants in the company of women she barely knew.<br/><br/>Mail greaves unfastened to expose long legs, bare except for the interruption of underthings designed to cover the essentials but nothing more, too skimpy to be believed. It was a while of sitting at her cot with her legs crossed, mirroring the elf and enjoying the draft of sea breeze brought into their private room, before she began to put on her stockings and skirt. "I could take it or leave it," claimed the woman with the form-fitting armor designed to encourage that lecherous attention. She stretched her toes out to slip into her heels, and was dressed to walk the ship in comfort.