Aria's eyes followed Rose's body, watching how each inch sank beneath the steaming surface, and she bit her lip again at the brief rise of a woman's breasts that water buoyancy always seemed to engender. She lowered herself opposite rose, back to the edge, her arms spreading across the marble rim now just above the surface. She nodded thoughtfully as Rose compared their styles, her eyes darting about in their sockets as they replayed some of the day's moments and maneuvers.<br/><br/>She watched Rose rise again with no less interest, and studied a few of her scars thoughtfully. "Thanks. And just so! - you've just described most of the girls I grew up with - aristocratic circles, you know? I'm glad my parents put me in fencing lessons - I don't know that this career was their intent, simply that Luskan's a rough place. Kidnappings weren't upcommon, as one can simply be taken out to sea, beyond reach of what law their was, or bounty hunters. Hmm, perhaps part of Garland's motivation in allying with pirates for his snatching deed..."<br/><br/>She bit her lip, not wishing to dash the good mood Rose seemed to be in; indeed, Aria could feel her heart beating with high hops to cultivate it. Her narrow red eyebrows furrowed a bit as she followed one scar on the other woman's body. She rose swiftly from the water but making very little splashing, standing face to face with the shifter and rather enjoying their closeness of height. She invited hersefl to brush a light fingertip across one scar, and murmured, "Scimitar or katana? Calishite trades are many up the west coast of Faerun, and Kara-Turan silk-merchants none too rare either - one of the<em>strangest</em>things I've ever seen was a battle betwixt ships offshore, one of local pirates, the other foreign nina, leaping 'twixt the ships' rigging at one another...<br/><br/>She focused again, on the scar, her hand brushing back again; her thumb tip caressing wetly across the uppermost curves of Rose's breasts this time while the index finger toyed at the throat scar again. "...but from what vanishingly little I know of the inland desert nomads...Bedine scimitar?" Her eyes lifted from the scar to Rose's, sympathetic, wondering. "The unhappy business with the absorbing tribe of your father's...or other desert bandits?"