Unlike many of her comrades and the sailors aboard the ship, Rozalia was having the time of her life. Truly, there was nothing quite as exhilarating as being out at sea during a storm - and what storms they were. It were as if the Gods themselves were whipping together such a frenzy in the water and sky; they lost the stars and the moons for a good long while, obscured by clouds as dark as the Void itself. The only light came from crackles of purple lightning flitting across the air, accompanied by such booming claps of thunder that could barely be heard over the roaring of the wind and the waves. And during the tempest, Roze did not retreat back into the holds - she could keep her balance well enough, and her stomach was surprisingly settled for the way they were being tossed about. While she knew nothing about ships, she was quick to volunteer help to the sailors, particularly if it involved climbing - it was high time she began working her shoulder once more.

Prior to leaving, she'd been able to get her bow finally re-strung from the smithy, also paying to have her leather armour patched up fully, and re-stocking her arrow supply. However, although her bow was in one piece again, Roze was finding it very difficult to pulling the string back at all. While the dislocation hadn't really done much for the joint, it had been the tearing of the muscle that was causing the most pain. It felt taut, even while relaxed - she'd need to exercise it before being able to knock and pull an arrow again. And what better exercise than climbing? It was either that or just sit beneath the decks, surrounded by fighting, vomiting, and just general nastiness. 

So, Roze remained topside for most of the journey, enjoying some of the old stories from Leif and the crew. She hadn't known of his sailing past, but she could tell he certainly fitted in - there was something about the man that certainly reminded her of the sea. Curious as to why he even left this life to being with, Roze decided she'd have to ask him at some point. That, or she could get the story out of Sevine... once the poor woman recovered from the trip, that was.

As for Rhasha'Dar, he was enjoying the voyage about as much as Sevine. Although not suffering so much from sea-sickness - although this could have been down to his minuscule diet of nibbles of bread here and there during the journey - he was far more worried about drowning. Although he couldn't swim to begin with, Rhasha had many doubts as to whether it would matter, considering the size of the waves. He figured he'd have better chances surviving against one of the Kamal than the current of the wild waters. So, the Khajiit remained quiet, even staying out of the troubles going on between Dumhuvud and S'riracha - but that did not mean he ignored the matters. The younger Khajiit was a curious one, and Rhasha had watched on with a thoughtful frown as he stepped down from a fight. Back in the caravan, he would have been trying to hook his claws into the eyes of his offender... it was not like him to ignore such insults. Remaining where he sat, in  a dark, quiet corner of the ship, Rhasha'Dar puffed on his pipe and watching his fellow caravaneer carefully for the remainder of the voyage.

As the ships reached their final destination, Rhasha'Dar finally found the courage to go topside, breathing a sigh of relief as the fresh air hit him. He hadn't realised until now just how stuffy it had been below decks, the constant stench of salty mildew and stomach contents likely making things worse for the already nauseated. While the sight of firm land was a comfort, Rhasha elected to remain on the ship. Although storms rumbled in the distance, he trusted [i]The Courtesan[/i] to stay aloft over the small rowboats being used to get to the small cave. Besides, if the ship decided to travel down the coast to where the distant fire flickered, his healing may be needed.

Rozalia, however, climbed quite happily into the small boats after Sevine. By now, her shoulder was feeling far looser - she'd even managed to finally brush her hair, nott hat the joint had been pleased with the effort. Climbing the mast had been an easier task. While her curls were still stiff with salt water, the knots had been tamed, and she'd even been loaned a colourful bandanna from one of the sailors to push it back from her face. She fancied it suited her and her wild hair.

"I bet you're glad to leaving the sea behind, Sevine." Rozalia said with a bright grin, plucking the string of her bow almost absent-mindedly as the boat filled up with others. While she still couldn't exactly pull it back all the way, Roze felt better having the bow with her. Her newly-repaired leather armour had also been donned, a quiver of about ten arrows slung onto her back. Despite her sunny appearance, there were a small niggle of worry sat in the young Breton's heart - she hadn't really considered the extent of damage of Winterhold until actually seeing it, and it had been a breath-taking sight. Could something natural really have caused that? Was it the Kamal? Or worse, was it the acts of some Daedric Prince? Many on [i]The Courtesan[/i] believed the storms were the acts of one of the Daedra, so it was entirely possible they had struck down the city in anger. Biting her lip nervously, Roze gazed at the jagged cliff edges left of the Hold Capital. [i]"If I find out Sebastian lost a wager with Sheogorath or something and caused this, I'm going to be quite annoyed."[/i] The thought was a joking one, although not entirely impossible. In the same train of thought, she hoped once more that her old friend had survived the catastrophe.