𝚂𝙷𝙴’𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙴𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. There were few things that bothered her quite as much as not knowing something ; information was power, and there was no individual on Omega that had as much power as her. For a while, she’d skirted along on not knowing the specifics of this situation — a Collector on Omega, no wonder people were talking — but it had gotten to the point where not knowing more was getting under her skin. Henchmen turned up dead or without information or proof, the subject — the supposed rogue Collector — yet again elusive, enigmatic.
Ironic that it would be a child that would lead her to it. So much for the competence of her lackeys.
Aria is in a rare position ; away from her perch at the top of Afterlife, somewhere in the dingy catwalks and streets between apartments. In her right hand is a tinier one, grimy little chitin-y clawed fingers held in hers. A turian child, leading her to a supposed insectoid friend, all too happy to help her, a woman who was not unlike a super-hero of sorts (their word, not hers) to the street-rats in every other alleyway.
❝ Alright, Kaevus, ❞ Aria says to her current small companion when they finally stop, her face impassive but eyes darting to every dark corner, ❝ Where’s your friend? ❞