Life here on the Citadel was a far cry from her upbringing in The Temple of Kalahira on Kahje. Life in the all-female training facility of the temple had been prayer, meditation, lessons in physical comfort, verbal comfort, the arts, and, of course, the art of killing. Tila Kalos had lived there eighteen years and here on the Citadel only a brief eight years. She had taken a job with the Asari Consort near the embassies and saw many important clients daily. Her work as an assassin had taken a back seat ever since then, not that she minded. Tila preferred to cultivate and improve life as opposed to take it away, though there were people whose lives were a privilege they did not deserve.
To be a consort was one thing, but there were far seedier places someone with a particular need could have it filled, and could indeed have far darker needs filled. Tila had kept vigil on those places secretly during her time here and she prayed to her goddess every day for the chance to come to rid the world of their proprietors, those who preyed upon the innocent, the weak, children.
The first time Tila had noticed something was wrong with her; she'd been twenty-two years old. There had been a pain in her lower body, like a sickness. She'd sat in stunned silence while the best doctor money could buy in a presidium hospital told her she was dying. It would be a slow death and it would kill her body bit by bit, the lessened load of oxygen causing her body to shut down non-essential functions first. The very first thing Kepral's Syndrome robbed Tila of was her ability to bear children.
She wanted to be angry, at first, but her meditations and her training soothed her. She didn't need to carry a child to influence one. There were very few Drell females working on the Citadel, particularly in positions such as hers, so she was highly popular and influential to the right sort of people. A whisper in the ear of an enamored Turian diplomat that many Turian ductrats were war orphans and should be cared for by the hierarchy, planting the suggestion that a fund should be created for sick children unable to afford treatment while an Asari matriarch enjoyed her skin secretions, explaining the benefits of providing education to the underprivileged young on the Citadel while massaging the day's troubles out of a Salarian from an influential family.
Tila did more than simply influence these charities to take place, she walked among the children she considered her charges when she had a moment of free time. She brought them food, or medicine, sometimes clothing or toys, anything to ease their lives a bit. Though during one visit to the lower wards, she saw her.
Tila did not know the girl's name or her exact age, but the teenage Quarian was clearly ill. With a concerned expression, Tila approached the girl. "Child, you look unwell…Let me help you." She reached out to her.
However, to Tila's great shock, the Quarian didn't go to her. She gasped and stumbled off as fast as she could; shaking her head and muttering about the trouble she'd be in talking to strangers. Tila would need to employ her other training to help this girl, it seemed. Cloaking as she had learned in the monastery when she was no older than the girl she sought, she climbed gingerly across the catwalks between buildings, watching her.
As she watched, it became increasingly obvious to the Drell that this girl belonged to one of the men she wanted dead. Even within the suit, Tila could identify just from the way the girl walked how bruised and beaten she was on top of being sick. It made the Drell consort sick to her stomach to imagine what sort of monster would hurt such a young girl this way. In her moment of anger, she lost the target. Cursing herself for forgetting her training, Tila made her way back to the Presidium, determined to return to that area tomorrow and find the girl again. Meanwhile, it occurred to her some of her clientele may be familiar with the secrets of the lowest parts of the wards. She had much to discuss during her scheduled appointments today.