Z. NAMORA.

I look forward to fighting alongside you my entire life.

► GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME & ALIAS: namora CURRENT TEAM(S): talokan armed forces PREVIOUS ALIASES: n/a AGE: unknown ( but very old ) SPECIES: talokanil MULTIVERSAL ORIGIN: earth-199999 ( mcu )

GENDER IDENTITY: she/they SEXUALITY: pansexual NATIONALITY: talokanil ETHNICITY: mexican

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: melissa barrera SPECIAL / RECOGNIZABLE FEATURES: blue skin on land HAIR COLOR: black EYE COLOR: brown ACCENT: mexican CURRENT COSTUME: a lion fish inspired outfit from wakanda forever 

► BACKGROUND

CURRENT HOME: talokan PAST OCCUPATION: n/a CURRENT OCCUPATION: advisor to namor / warrior SNAP STATUS: survived

► RELATIONS

SIBLING(S): none PARTNER(S): none CHILDREN: none PARENT(S): unnamed mother and father

► HEADCANONS/FUN FACTS

is namor’s cousin

hates being on the surface and wearing a water respirator

the blue of her skin on land bothers her

based her attire on a lion fish due to how deadly it is

does not trust shuri and does not want to work with the surface

speaks a spanish based on yucatec mayan primarily

► WANTED CONNECTIONS

“Oh no, no. No I don’t need to speak with him, I’m just curious about your culture.” Ross chuckled nervously. “He and you are both hundreds of years old? Is that right?”

“Then can you tell me why you just crawled out of the Hudson River and why you look like you just came straight from Pandora?” A bag containing some stolen vibranium was slung over Felicia’s shoulder as she readjusted it. “Whatever, I don’t care anyways. Goodbye.”

“Listen, I know that people have a tendency not to trust S.H.I.E.L.D..” Not that Daisy could blame them, really. After all the Hydra stuff happened it was pretty hard to get back to that same trust they once had. “But you can trust me. I know a thing or two about being different.”

“Whatever it is that you wish to say, spit it out! You are testing my patience.”

“If I possessed you, you would have no memory of it. But I only do it when necessary.” Druig paused to smirk. “Promise.”

closed to @nmora​ where: talokan

Talokan’s sun rose steadily and the seaweed, the seagrass, bent to embrace its light. Sleep did not come easily to Namor that night and he watched it rise and fall without so much as stirring from where he sat. As long as he breathed, his people would not go without its light. Never again. Even if he had to tear down the surface dweller’s own, drown it beneath the waves to give it to them.

He was ready for that day, in spite of what alliances he made with the surface.

K’uk’ulkan stirred when a ball from one of the children’s games came towards him. They offered for him to join but he simply smiled, ruffled their hair, and sent them on their way. Later, he promised. He sensed Namora’s presence before the water shifted beside him and he turned to look at her.

“Ka'a suku'un,” he called. “Ba'ax a preocupa?”

This was her home. This: Talokan. This: the sweeping city below the crashing of the waves. Namora had lived her entire life in Talokan and slept in the surf from the moment she was born. The sea was all that she knew and all that she desired. For Namora, the sun rose and set on Talokan. No more, no less. There was no pull to the world above that filled her head with fantasies of fresh air and natural sunlight. The Talokanil had slipped below the surface and created a home for themselves as impressive as any empire. It was for Talokan that Namora lived and would die. She was aware it made her sound like a fanatical loyalist, but it was more than that. Talokanil was a part of who she was and Namor her flesh and blood. As long as he sat on the throne -- and he always would -- it would be a matter of family and honor.

Tanned limbs cut through the water as Namora propelled herself towards her cousin. Her hands were hers, familiar in shade and coloring. After spending so much time on the surface recently it was a relief to see them devoid of the blue tinge that the air brought. This was who she was: Namora, daughter of Talokan and advisor to the King. She was the woman in the lion fish design because she was deadly to behold. Deadly and, as of late, troubled.

“Ka'a suku'un,” Namora echoed in greeting. “K'a'abet in t'aan ta wéetel.” Bubbles burst from the small motions she made as she connected her wrists and splayed her hands to form the Talokan greeting. “It’s the Princess.” The transition to English was accented. “I know what you’ve said -- but, Namor, I do not trust her or their new King. Are you positive?”