<br/>Though her eyes had maintained a fair scan of the party, Aria quite suddenly realized just how subconscious it had become fro a time now - a good sign that her present conversation was engaging her. Like someone waking and just barely remembering a dream, the sudden riveting of her attention across the deck left her suddenly quite cognizant and marveling at just how subconscious her eyes' far-casting had became. Until this moment it seemed.<br/><br/>Had Aria cast eyes on her at most any other moment of life or chance meeting, she likely would not have ventured speak to the lady, filled with some vague sense that such ethereal beauty was...well, ethereal, intangible, like a dream. She was reminded by some of the knights of her Red Fellowship, that particular strain of youth who'd read and heard of the old, old, ways of chivalry and the paladin's path from past, perhaps more self-denying generations: the memory or myth of the overtight-codpieced knight who might snatch one glance of some fair lady, perhaps from afar or unseen in return, and go about the rest of his days with her as some quest-muse in his own mind.<br/><br/>Some, of course, would acquaint themselves of their lady and perhaps win her favor, wear her scarf - as it seemed Garland had one Sara's, once - and perhaps much more. For others it was pure fantasy, a moment's sight of a girl they would never see again nor know the name of, with her unaging (and presumably never married off, as the real girl surely would be down the seasons) in their own mind. Aria hoped such unfulfilled mooning never need be for her - somehow knowing and growing close to Rose seemed some bulwark against it - and, it seemed, she had cause to speak to his lady after all.<br/><br/>Awe melted away into allure, and calm confidence; Aria excused herself from her present company by giving a young lady a comforting bat on the small of the back, and tossing an encouraging wink at a youth. He'd seemed desperate to catch the eye of samesaid lady and would no doubt step in the split-second Aria moved away. Aria's own winking eye then trailed more appraisingly across the butterfly-winged woman. The feline seemed intelligent and magical, a familiar perhaps, which would reckon with the woman being, perhaps, a sorceress as the beautifully mixing bloodlines might suggest. Though, hmm, if she were, one to display faith in Sharess - display<em>very</em>attractively, Aria decided, having hardly failed to notice the bus which hosted the symbol she recognized fro her time in Brightwater.<br/><br/>And with a pamphlet; a good sign then, if those of other faiths and perhaps other quarters of the plane were here. Aria drifted in agile arcs around other revelers, her crimson cheongsam pulling against her lithe body in ways which accepted firm curves of buttock, hip or breast from one moment to the next. It turned out she'd chosen a new gown a bit tighter than those she used to wear, but had been enjoying it well enough, and those of the glances from a few menfolk (most of this plane were gentlemanly enough,and in the worst  case the chopsticks in her hair were improvisable as just the sort of small but precise weapons she favored).<br/><br/>The ivory-peach skin of her four limbs glittered faintly in the candle-light Brightwater 'night', for she's sparkled herself with silver dust, like a faroff sky of stars herself. She took swift and subtle but deeply appreciative glances of the lady as she neared, like a wine one savors knowing they might or might not drink it again. She was put in mind by the wings of the pixie she'd seen flying alongside the man on the pegasus that afternoon, or of the pixie-like 'Coure' eladrins of Brightwater.<br/><br/>The approach, necessarily winding around other partygoers, treated her to some variety of angles to behold the celestial-hued lady. The tiefling found herself thanking the wings for the necessary low cut left in back of the dress, and the savory swaths of soft skin. She loved the dress, and with its airy translucent layering, could equally well imagine the lady out of it or herself in one very much like it. Both thoughts made her smile. Aria drifted like an autumnal leaf alongside the lady, smiled knowingly at the cat, and let her hazel eyes flick up to those of its carrier. "Has m'lady found fair what she's appraised so far this eve? She'd not be the first, a fact of which I've been quite, quite cognizant." She slow-blinked meaningfully, as one does when savoring a sip of a drinks or some fond memory. Appropriately, perhaps, she plucked a champagne flute from the silver tray of passing girl that Luneth or Ingus must've hired to dole out the stores, and offered it to the lady while reaching for a second if the first was accepted.  "For I am Aria, and one of those with this ship to offer - and much which is upon and in it besides.