Anonymous asked:  Do you ever paint your nails?

       Zora scoffs, her typically neutral smile turning into a fight frown; brows furrowing. 

--- “Well, what kind’a dumb question is that? ‘Course I don’t! Don’t people usually paint their nails ‘t be all “pretty” an’ pretentious?” 

Send 💍 to put a ring on my muse’s finger // Still Accepting! 

Okay, well... At first, Zora simply... stares at Kitsune. A blank, yet not necessarily unfriendly stare, at that. Although the smile remained plastered on her face, it was evident that she wasn’t entirely all...there. 

The gears slowly turned in her head, the glassy sheen over her eyes fading, and it wasn’t long before she finally opened her mouth to ask, 

I made u fanart as a crab here you go 

thank u corgi, i shall cherish this until i die. 

Questions for Magical or Elemental Muses // Still Accepting!

😟 - What is the worst thing about having your magic?

“Ugh! You even have ‘ta ASK?!” 

Zora had a near limitless supply of DISDAIN for countless things, in the world. As carefree and uninvolved as she’d like to be, her list of dislikes far exceeded her list of likes, and that was a fact. 

Her dislike of EPITHETS, however, SURELY took the cake. Anybody who knew her, personally, would be able to tell you right off the bat that if you so much as MENTIONED having an epithet around her that she’d scowl something awful fierce. It was a curse, in her eyes; both the word itself, and the very concept, alone. 

“The worst thing about my epithet is even HAVIN’ IT in the FIRST place! Sure, yeah, okay, I might have been born LUCKY. I’m one of the most powerful epithet-wielders on the goddamned PLANET. Yay, ME, right?! I got it all! I’m motherfuckin’ ZORA SALAZAR! What’s NOT ‘ta like about the hand I’ve been dealt?!” 

Before she got too overly heated, Zora stopped herself from going any further. Not without taking a deep breath, first, at least.

“... But... Luck..? You’re tellin’ me that I gotta rely on LUCK ‘ta be considered STRONG..? ‘Ta be considered WORTH anything? You’re tellin’ me that you can go your whole life, training, betterin’ yourself, makin’ yourself the BEST you that you can be.... 

... and STILL fail? Just ‘cuz some JACKHOLE was born with the power to, I dunno, fire LASER BEAMS outta his eyes, or somethin’?” 

“IT’S NOT 

F A I R ! “ 

Again. She needed to calm down, again. It was brief, but it was POWERFUL. The undeniable surge of raw ENERGY had forced its way out from Zora’s person at her abrupt shout. The very ground beneath her feet darkened- dirtied with premature age. 

She could feel it, even. The untold POWER that just ONE person possessed.... She knew it, firsthand. Epithets... Epithets were cruel. Dangerous. Her fingers curled into her palms; poised claws that twitched with every spark, every flash of the destruction that she was willing herself to hold back on. 

Even training for years, even being a Class-Fuckin’-3.... Sometimes, the anger made it hard. Harder than it had any right to be. 

“...... I never should’a been born with this power. I don’t deserve it.” 

Disgust plain on her face, Zora musters up the gumption and crudely spits right on the ground, as if trying to get some bitter taste out of her mouth. 

Things only continued to get stranger and stranger, huh? It’s not OFTEN that you happen to run into somebody else, smack dab in the middle of the woods. Seldom without a gun and visible hunting garb, at the very least, anyway. And while the puzzling cowgirl lacked any camo on her person, the twin pistols were very much so existent; just buried beneath the thick cloth. 

Ray might as well have unknowingly crossed an invisible boundary- a border. One minute the bot had been living in reality, and then the next? She practically sets foot directly into Wonderland, as... 

Well, she’s just met Zora Salazar. Any preconceived notions of “average” or “abnormal” have LONG since been tossed into the deepest, nearest lake. 

And as if on cue, to PROVE that very fact, the pealing sound of laughter, raucous and bold, fills the air between them. 

Not as a form of MOCKERY, however. No, of course not! Someone in Ray’s position might have expected that, so naturally, it had to be the opposite! 

... Or, so it would seem. Zora wasn’t about to be explaining herself anytime soon, and that was a promise. 

“”Late”? PSH-Naw! I’d say I’m 

RIGHT. ON. TIME ! ” 

Then, without hesitation or warning, she JUMPS. 

A fall from THAT sort of height would SURELY result in some broken bones- a sprained ankle or two at the very least. Anyone not the least bit acrobatic or accustomed to dangerous stunts would be in for a world filled with achy knees and stabbing pain for who knows how long! 

Good thing, then, that before she’s even halfway to the ground, she inexplicably.... stops. She HOVERS in mid-freakin’-air, a not-so-distant 

‘TICK, TICK, TICK’ 

occupying the dead air with.. no apparent source? The sound could be coming from here, there, EVERYWHERE? 

Zora doesn’t really care to give Ray any time to figure the answer out for herself. She’s talking again, standing on absolutely NOTHING as confidently as one would stand on a perfectly sturdy platform.

“I just so happened t’be campin’ out, in these parts, when I noticed YOU walkin’ on by! Wouldn’t say I OWN th’ place, but even so, I don’t mind sharin’~!” 

In the time it took for her to speak her mind, however, it became clear that, no, she HADN’T outright paused. She’d merely slowed down her fall, somehow. Her harsh descent had magically turned into a casual, steady drift down to the ground.

Miscellaneous Zora headcanons under the cut! <3 

Admittedly- her parents were quite possibly the absolute fucking worst.

“You’re hired to take out some… ‘business associates’ that my parents find to be a hindrance. How does that not make you an assassin?”

While Preston and Priscilla had full confidence in Zora’s abilities, they’d still insisted on sending Pacifica along to serve as a distraction. After all, what better way to keep their precious daughter under their thumb then by pulling her into their illegal activities? Couldn’t betray them when they forced her to get blood on her hands.

“I’ll be driving. You can change in the back of the car. You’re to be my plus one to the party. I’m sure you can handle like, not being…. well, you know, for an hour or so. Just look pretty and say nothing til I can get the guests of honor alone.”

Throughout Pacifica’s instructions, Zora is seemingly more than happy to throw a pleasant smile around and stand idly by while her ears are talked off. Despite her... well, BRASH demeanor, and her enjoyment of “testing the waters”, so to speak, with the girl, she knew very well when it was time for fun, and when it was time for business. 

As much as she liked to toe the line, outright being a NUISANCE to the family that required her services was one of the last things on her agenda. 

.. For the time being, that is. Once her job was done, that might CHANGE in the future, of course. However, right now, at this very moment... 

“Well, ‘fer one thing,” she’s oh-so eager to fire off the first chance she gets, “if you should happen to, I dunno... run into trouble, then do you seriously expect me ‘ta just STAND AROUND while ‘yer in a pickle?” 

“Sure! My MAIN focus is takin’ down the targets, obviously, but as er...” She paused to frown a moment, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “... Well, I’m sure ‘yer folks wouldn’t be too happy if you got hurt, now, right? A girl can multitask!” 

“.. But, sure, sure. Call me whatever you like, Ms.Northwest. ‘Yer the boss~.” 

Although the title slithered out of her mouth like a taunt, or a jeer, not once had Zora truly shown any real ill intent. She’d be perfectly content with this being an in-and-out job; wholly and truly. No need to go and complicate things, now, yeah?

“No need!”