For the past two days, Lorraine has mostly split her time between looking after her relatives - her brother and her father - and looking after her horses, with some help from others of her small entourage; men and women she treats more like family than like the servants their mannerisms suggest. Plain clothes and a severe hair style do not remove the impression that Lorraine is - or was - nobility, she retains the manners, if not the arrogance... or the beauty. Tall, dusky of skin and black of hair, she keeps a soft tone ... most of the time.<br/>Today, any change, even one that causes nervous muttering amongst sailors is a welcome change from listening to the near-constant griping and growling from Kale, and the moans and mutters from Edrik - or so it seemed to Lorraine at that moment. She straightened from her self-assigned post and turns to look. Land is land - but the attitude of the sailors twists a knot in her gut and makes her instinctively reach for a weapon she is not carrying. She shifts her weight, ignoring the locks of hair whipped into her face by the wind, and moves down to see what Captain Svinnson has to say about this, glancing about as she goes to see how the other passengers are handling it.