Mala'Naelus

**Mala'Naelus nar Teelazi** is a pilgrim, botanist and a member of the Council Recovery Corps.

## Biography

Mala’Naelus was born to Kalo’Naelus and Mila’Naelus vas Teelazi, both aboard the Teelazi of the Migrant Fleet. Her mother was the primary doctor on board while her father worked in the labs, which mostly focused on the preservation of Rannoch flora and similar plants that may help in researching just how Quarians used to connect with their homeworld’s biology. Obtaining actual samples was out of the question, instead, it was a team dedicated to reproducing and cloning based on what research they were able to gather, hoping to find some way of developing a stronger immunity to certain strains of disease or sickness. There was just enough space on the ship to be developed to house the inhabitants and scientists on board, and in these cramped storage spaces is where Mala spent her entire life.

As a child there were hardly any other children on board around her age, her parents having met and started a relationship when there was a lull in new recruits on board. What started as simple flirting in the Medbay turned into a relationship that neither truly expected to have, with Mila often being the instigator. Born in the single clean room aboard the small ship, Mala was brought into the universe by her mother’s closest medical associate. It was in the cramped section of the living apartments, tucked away into the corner of her parents’ newly joined living space, where her first memories were spent. The colorful quilts and tapestries that covered the walls and floor were in part traded and made by her own father, who delighted in creating new patterns and trading materials for the completed designs among their own ship and others who visited. Softspoken and hard working, Mala took to her father very quickly as a babe, often relaxing the most when watching his gentle hands weave and type into his omnitool.

The second she was fitted for her first environmental suit she was thrust into the community based teaching style that most other children went through, learning the ins and outs of ship basics, developing into more complex theory that most quarian regarded as important to suit their life in the stars as she grew older. When crew members had time they would show her what they could, the close knit community of the Teelazi used to sharing their knowledge with the children of the ship when they came along. There was one other child that stood out on the ship, Raefa’Midda. Despite being immensely distant from other children closer to her age, Mala was often seen in the shadow of Raefa, who often acted as a pseudo babysitter/mentor for the younger child. At the age of ten, Mala got most of her basics from Raefa and her father when he had the time. Raefa was considered more of a brash child growing up, and despite Mala’s quietness it fostered a stubborn attitude in the younger Quarian, as often Raefa felt pride in her little shadow and passed on what tips and tricks she could.

It was at the age of twelve for Mala that she became more interested in her father’s passions, Raefa starting some more pilgrimage based teachings, and their age starting to become a divide. Even though Mala was young, all hands are needed on a ship, and so with what other tasks she was given she also sat through her father’s lectures on how research in the ship was conducted. While her own interests often fell in with her father’s work, her mother on the other hand has wholly expected Mala to follow in her own footsteps. At fourteen, her mother strongly persuaded her to get training in the medical ward beyond what basic Quarian medicine she knew, and while Mala followed through with a year of assisting and shadowing basic medical work, her heart wasn’t in it. It did however inflict a fondness for the profession, as it reminded her of time with her direct and outspoken mother.

Sixteen was generally the time when she would begin some instruction on the outer worlds and cultures and what to expect for her time in pilgrimage, and yet by the beginning of that new year they had become allied with the Terminus Confederacy. She remembers the tension that had surrounded the Teelazi at the time, and soon just a few months later, they had declared war on the Citadel. Conversations and teachings of her Pilgrimage were overshadowed by taking stock of their supplies, assisting her parents in what she could, delving deeper into assisting her father and the other scientists on the ship to distract from what had been going on around the outside. As a simple lab ship, the Teelazi wasn’t directly involved with combat or harm. However, over the next year and a half, the floodgates of horror and discord in the galaxy was enough to hold her and her parents from even stepping around the topic of her pilgrimage. And yet, by August of her seventeenth year, the Reapers had been destroyed. There was a surge of happiness and hope in the air of the ship, and finally Mala gained her proper preparation for leaving. By the time she had turned eighteen the Quarian had received their citizenship in Citadel Space, and finally, it was time to leave. Her mother, worried at Mala’s unknown in what she wanted to achieve, sent her off with rushed advice and strong words. Her father, handing over his scratched M-6 from his own pilgrimage, had given her a gentle hug and his own personal sewing kit for any tears in her suit.. She received a lift from a transport ship heading in the direction of the Citadel, the first wave of Quarians in a while.

The second she stepped out to the Citadel’s lower docks, Mala was immediately overwhelmed. While she had lived her whole life on a crammed ship, it was the mass of unknown and unfeeling that consumed her. She attempted to spend as little as she could, surviving on her rations and applying here and there to any small end-jobs she could receive, hoping to land a position as a low assistant in a clinic or shop. The second she was given an opportunity on a janky survey ship, under the table and for low level labor and engineer work, she took it. Quarians were known for all having a decent grip on ship engineering, and after only two dreadful months at the Citadel, she was hopping from small ship to ship under whatever low amount they could pay her. While it wasn’t what she wanted to pursue, the experiences gave her a better view on working on a ship that wasn’t just her home, as well as how the world around her was harsh and often cold. For the most part of a year she continued what work she could, drifting from ship to ship, colony to colony, until one particularly bad crew decided they wouldn’t have enough to pay her for the work she’d be doing on their ship. Having been under the table, Mala fought for her credits, and in return, was dumped at the colony they had been visiting. The ship she’d been working on had been gathering some of the rather large species for an offshore private buyer, and Mala’s stance on proper treatment of the animals is probably what put her at odds with the crew in the first place. Alone and in the more rural aspects of the planet’s colonies, she found herself low on credits and of rations.

The world was Oma Ker, a turian based colonized world that was rather populated. However, she found herself in a relatively small colony. Almost two weeks had passed hopping from what shelter she could afford, surviving on her low rations, when she found herself pleading with a turian shop owner for rations with what little credits she had. What began as bartering turned into frustration with her own situation, to an argument when the turian made an offhand comment about Quarians’ pilgrimage. Her own stubbornness is what truly escalated the argument, only coming to a quick halt as a cough interrupted the two. She had turned to view a relatively old turian from what she could tell, and the shop owner all but ignored her existence to cater to the new arrival. Leaving in a storm, she had slumped to a bench at the front of the shop, resting her back on the wall while pulling up her omni-tool in a sad attempt to figure out what could be done next. A sudden shadow hulking in the corner of her visor, she looked up to see the older turian before, as he spoke to her in a gruff voice, offering work for a bit of food she could eat.

The touch of kindness was a sudden jolt to her systems, something she was in turn as thankful for as wary of. Following the turian, always aware of her pistol in the chance she had to use it, he directed her to his own small shop in the town. What little dialogue he produced was short and gruff, and Mala was unsure if this was a product of his age or just his own character.  He introduced himself as Kaestus, and that if she could lift some of the soil he had delivered that morning, he’d give her something to eat for the night. Unsure, she followed through, her desperation at any kind of offer was enough to make her believe this turian, if just for a moment. Low and behold, as the sun began to set and the soil was safely in his shed, he showed her to a small cot and some form of dextro-paste in the backroom of his shop, and left it at that. His way of speaking and direct form reminded her of her own mother, and while she knew it was foolish, she was able to catch some sleep that night.

She had prepared herself to be told to leave that next morning, and yet when the Turian arrived to open his shop, he simply gave her another task. Having been rested and now able to take in the shop, she noted the large and sweeping plants filling every corner, flowers of different variety blooming and swaying in the wind of the open door. Kaestus put up with her questioning when she did, often of his work and shop, and this continued for almost a month. Mala went from only being allowed to shovel dirt and what labor the older turian couldn’t do to being able to water and monitor the plants after Kaestus had caught her taking small samples of leaves and floral tissue in her downtime. He kept her busy, always in return for whatever easily sanitized food he could find her, and a shelter to sleep in at night. Over the weeks she found it turning from an unknown situation to almost as if she had found a figure in which she could trust. His instruction was brief and often rough on the ears, and yet fostered a love for botany that she had forgotten from her childhood. On the lab ship, caring for plants that did not serve an immediate purpose in research was unheard of, as it took up resources. Here, in Kaestus’s store, she found herself tending to plants that simply existed to be beautiful. Still, in her omnitool she categorized and sifted through the multitudes of dextro-amino flora she had encountered in her time here. She hoped that someway, she’d be able to find a similarity with Rannoch’s own flora, in hopes of recreating a strain or gene that would benefit the Quarian immune system or even boost plant growth on the Liveships.

Almost a year had passed, and Mala found herself falling into life in the colony and in Kaestus’s store almost too well. She had fostered a tentative relationship with others in the colony, as well as caught the attention of several children who loved to watch her sew and knit with what materials she could grab for cheap at a nearby market. Kaestrus offered her credits for her work, which she opted to take less of due to her staying in an unused room in the back of the store. Her relationship with Kaestus turned into a sort of tough love grandfather figure, who let slip over the months that his initial sight of her stubbornness and loyalty to her traditions reminded him of himself in his youth. However, upon working with her in the store, her curiosity had reflected upon him of his own son, who he had lost years prior. While she found herself content in the bubble she had surrounded herself in, she felt as if in stasis, unsure of the future of her and the Migrant Fleet. It was Kaestus who had suggested the CRC as a volunteer, as perhaps she could find something there to help her decide on what she truly wanted to do. He had already heard of the newer organization, and with his time spent with Mala he could tell she was beginning to find herself aimless in how to return to the fleet. She had grown fond of her little space here, and so with some toughness and direct words, gave her his advice and some extra pistol handling exercises and all but persuaded her to apply. As long as she could spend some time at the store, he wouldn’t be too upset with the ‘lack of labor’ if she was off now and then with the CRC.

## Personality

Mala is often described by those who know her as an old soul for her age, unusually quiet and soft in her movements and touch. Those who do not have the opportunity to know her take note in her unease to keep direct eye contact, her willingness to slip away from a large crowd. She’s reserved and often quiet in her own work, not often being the one to start a conversation in the ways most normal people would do, although once her interest has been piqued she sticks around. While she takes after her father in the sense that she appears laid back and reserved, it’s her mother that shines through in her stubbornness to persevere even if all seems as if it is wrong. Even if she’s failed a hundred times, there’s a part of her that still whispers to give another chance, even if the hurt is catastrophic. It’s not in loud frustration, but quiet seething in attempt after attempt until one gains her the satisfaction she desires. Her life has been shaped by small friendships and bonds, and while she has trouble making new relationships, she finds herself happy and content when a new one sneaks into her affections. While she still prefers her closest friendships over small talk and fast moves, she finds it hard to say no in terms of smaller children.

She admires those passionate for what they desire, and is swayed deep in her heart by the arts of different cultures and species she’s seen in her time as a pilgrim. Her father opened her eyes to sewing at a young age, and her travels have only solidified as she’s more fond of the arts than the people themselves. She particularly loves deep and lulling conversations pertaining to her passions and what topics interest her the most, and you can tell in her change of tone when she’s content and drawn into your words.  Most comfortable in close knit communities like her own ship, it’s places like the bustling Citadel that make Mala the most uncomfortable. She enjoys the thrum of a community working close and in sync with each other, something she’s been trying to simulate since leaving on her Pilgrimage. She finds her stubbornness lets up the most when it’s a loved one who is offering the most sage advice, or when her hesitance is based solely on her fear of a new environment. She’s prone to nervous bouts, and while she knows what she enjoys is often at a loss of what to do with her life or how to return to the Migrant Fleet.

### Exceptional Skills

* *Budding Botanist -* Botany was something that first excited Mala at a young age, as her father spent a lot of time cultivating different types of species of flora that could benefit the food production or scientific side of the Migrant fleet. While this meant it was mostly all in theory, as actual plants were rare on the ship, the pictures of different planets’ plants and swaying trees instilled a deep love for nature in the young Quarian. The idea of having her own garden was something out of the question on the Migrant Fleet, as it would take up too many resources for something that was only a hobby while there was plenty of ready-made paste available. This did not stop Mala from saving many images of different plants and flowers onto her omni tool to look at in her free time.
* *Three Fingered Seamstress -* Her father was always sewing quilts and tapestries for other crew members and their own apartment, and so it was natural that it was something that Mala would pick up eventually. While her father excelled in distinct patterns and whatever bright colours he could get his hands on, Mala often preferred the tapestries with the deeper, dulled colours. While in the Migrant Fleet she produced many of her own tapestries she eventually traded out for more useful items, she would continue her practice with much more detailed and different aspects on Oma Ker. Here, she delighted in creating dolls or embroidery on childrens’ clothes if they asked, as long as they would bring her the materials.
* *Amatuer Poet -* One thing that her close friend Raefa had imprinted onto her was a love for poetry and rhyme. The older quarian had always been humming and writing into her omnitool when she had the time, and so when Mala had asked to see what was so important, she was hesitant to let her see her handwritten Poetry. The idea that words could be used so beautifully and purposefully had never occurred to her prior, and as young as she was, it was Raefa’s fondness for it that solidified the want to know more. Her poetry isn’t all that great, but it serves as a way to keep track of her mental state at the time it was written, often delighting in long winded imagery.

## Physical Description

Mala is quite short in comparison to some Quarians, standing at 5’3” with a slim and long legged frame. Her environmental suit is the same as the one she left the Migrant Fleet with, with a few scratches and mini modifications in order to keep the suit in working order. It’s similar to most younger Quarians’ suits, not yet having been changed upon her reentering of the fleet to show her status as an adult. The main fabric’s colour is a light, cool blue-green, with a light swirling pattern dancing along the edges to meet more harsh straight lines in places.

The hood is a big baggy and wraps down to her upper torso where it is secured in place by a buckle. There is some more coloured fabric around her midsection as well as down her legs. A part of the midsection comes off in a bit of loose fabric, not enough to be considered a hazard.  However, although it may be taboo to completely alter her look without first returning and claiming her status as an adult, there are a few things she’s changed since her two years off her home ship. There are a few stitches here and there, some patchwork to cover some large tears in the fabric. A pouch has been sewn into her right leg, and there’s a few new pockets that provide places to easily store small items. A small leaf is embroidered into the side of her hood.

In terms of her main features, her eyes glow through the light coloured visor with an almost peach-like colour, the glass being tinted but not in any distinguishable colour. She often stands with a reserved pose, not quite relaxed in her environment but not on edge enough to be able to defend herself in a pinch. As the tint in her visor obscurs all facial movement other than her eyes, all expression is found in her body expression.. While her eyes may squint or widen, the majority of her telling signs are in her movements. Her voice is often soft and lulling, but when she’s heated she’s able to reach a moderate level with a small number of cracks in her voice. When happy, she often hums without knowing, sometimes even being heard beyond the confines of her own suit.

### Armament

* M-6 Carnifex
* Omnibow

### Abilities

* Decoy
* Tactical Cloak
* Defense Drone
* Invasion