Norlanann locks her door behind her. Turning to face the room, she notes the armoire, bed, vanity, and a door off to the left -- a bathroom? She sits on the bed, letting her vulture settle onto the footboard, and re-laces her tall leather boots, grimacing at the crease they left on her mid-thigh. She unpins her cloak and makes her way to the armoire, hanging and closing it back up. Norlanann checks her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her earrings and pulling her hair back into a gentle crown braid. Finally, she stands, neatens the tuck of her top, and stills. A deep breath in and out seems to clear her mind. 
The suitor unlocks the door, heads back to the main hall. It’s been about two-thirds of an hour, give or take, so her servant might be nearing the castle. Outside, she meets the castle attendant with her horse and dismisses them, throwing her leg over the saddle and relaxing into the stirrups. Nothing in mind, she begins to meander the castle grounds.