Reiha was quite used to the turbulent and wild nature of the seas.  Though not a professional sailor by any means, her unusual affinity for the wild energies of the world, along with her own strange internal imbalance made avoiding motion sickness impossibly simplistic for her.  Her hair was shorter, roughly chin length and straight.  It's color was like the spark that ignited a fire, while the one eye that could be seen was a common brown.  A black patch covered her left eye.  Her crimson tinted armor matched her hair slightly, a black cloak hung clasped from her neck, fluttering slightly from the salty air passing over the deck of the ship.  A beaten sickle hung from her belt, while a lead rod with various markings swung from a leather strap from her right hip.<br/><br/>"I think the majority weathered the storm fairly well, considering the amount present." she said to Aramil, one of the few that remained upon the deck, "The taste is getting to me, though."  Clearly she was indicating the smell.  It's thickness had become so strong as it hung in the air, it began to acquire it's own taste that clung to her tongue.  Filth wasn't easily palatable, but there were greater things she could be complaining about.