Zion King

A list of Zion’s Character Tropes

Attention Whore

Nepo-Baby (failing)

Self-Destruction is the Only Answer

Fashion Statement (disaster)

Gen Z™

"Person hated by family vows to make hatred completely valid"

Friend Group's Bully

Maximalist

Dream Job: Sugar Baby

Bad Influence, Worse Advice

“ugh—” the conversation circles back to the same point that zion keeps trying to make, as though there is some inevitability in her relationship with axe. as though they know her better than she does herself, the thoughts that couldn’t be known without being articulated. “i wasn’t going to go!” but the alternative was to sit at home, to remember that she had been labelled friendless, that she couldn’t carry on the kinds of conversations that a delaney once had been able to. “but it was that or drive back to berkeley for the weekend.”

is it a cop-out to say that, imply that she would simply hate to be away from hollywood for too long. it is, but at least it’s not about the reeves. that could be anyone. “i don’t share your fantasies here, okay?”

Their eyes widen to roll, as if the extra space is needed in a situation like this one. Sometimes it's hard to believe that Chloe is real with her excuses and lies, the extent of lameness that goes with them. "Girl, I'd die if I knew you had any fantasies period." A finger curves around their ear, pretending to brush a strand of hair that doesn't exist, much too close to the scalp to ever slink that far. "Could not be me." But it is the girl in front of them.

"Mm, anyways," they go on, readjusting in position, clearly going nowhere anywhere else. "Come over to get in the dress you're wearing for the party, please and welcome." And before she can object, there is a hand raised so that it can circle through the air in the direction of her current style choice. "This is giving... Martha Stewart meets Catholic school. Repression chic?"

she’d like to think she’s grown past the flush of frustration that might tinge her cheeks when backed into this kind of corner. it’s happened more than she’d like, and if her luck stayed exactly the same, it was bound to happen again. it seemed that there was no calculation that could be done to stop her from piquing the interest of the people in her life with her choices. “i wasn’t going to go.” it’s the honest truth, the wavering that she’d felt knowing that she probably shouldn’t, but still finding herself staring at the dresses in her closet. eventually she’d just been at the door. she hadn’t told anyone, much less thought of a plus one. a miscalculation given her current situation. 

“there’s nothing to talk about. you don’t even like art.”

"Oh no." They're sitting up straight, now. What does she mean she wasn't going to go? "Bitch, I know you're not about to serve me up some undercooked lies. I don't know who you think you're talking to right now." Because it can't be them. The way Zion's scoff echoes in the back of their throat like a stifled laugh is the final punctuation their conversation needed. It's just not the period Chloe is searching for unless it's camouflaged in fluttering eyelashes she's receiving. Unbelievable.

"And it was art that made you go." Nope! "Unless you thought you were getting pinned up Axe's wall, don't start."

the implications of their analogy fly over her head, leaving her only once again wondering the hows and whys of the situation that she’s continued to find herself in. so what if she’s a desert. she’d rather avoid trying to understand it.  at least they seem finally willing to part from the topic— though she lets her guard down too quickly it seems. 

“come on— why can’t it just be an invite.” she doesn’t want to be the type of girl that goes to a party in the hopes of running into someone else who has a chance of not even being there. the odds aren’t looking good, especially if it really is a pre-oscars event. publicity tends to be more active around such topics, giving rise for certain people to attend. it’s supposed to be an unpredictable season, but if zion can see through it, so can she. “i would have gone with you before.”

Their body arches to the side, a twisting of bones made of the inexplicable with a face to match. "Mm... did I miss something or...?" A hand rolls around their wrist, fingers searching for answers in how they curve through the air. "What's part of the equation that I wasn't told about? Because... what?" A dry laugh accompanies them before the cheeks are sucked in, taking in the situation of the girl with the hurt feelings. But what hurt? The lips finally pop apart.

"I would have gone to your little 'art gallery' fling had I been invited, but hmm somehow we don't talk about that."

ZION’S IMMEDIATE FAMILY TREE

Clifford “Cliff” King || Father || FC: Charles Dance || AGE: 76 || Classic Hollywood Actor || Icon

Hayden King || Half-Brother (father’s side) || FC: Peter Facinelli || AGE: 45 || Serious Actor (Oscar Nominated) || A-List

“that’s not even a good joke.” there’s a hint of annoyance, a dash of wishing that she was anywhere else other than here. the knowledge that there was simply nowhere else to go unless she wanted to retreat back to her office. whether or not emma reeves married into her job is a point of research that she has not delved into and is not qualified to speak on. some people deserve the things that they have, and she’s not going to form an opinion on it. she prefers that there are facts surrounding her thoughts about the reeves, logic and professionalism are close behind. “can we just, can you change the subject. isn’t there anything new in your life?”

"Who's joking?" They're nearly taken aback, a minor offense with an angled head before rolling to the side, more interested in shifting their straw around melting ice chips. "I'm trying to work miracles here. It's hard making a rainforest out of a desert." Eyes rake over her before the entire body takes in a deep breath, as if every cell needs the strength that comes from the oxygen.

"Fine... You're dehydrating me." They think for a moment before the cup is put to the side, condensation flicked from their fingertips off to the side. "There's a party for Hayden Saturday. That little bitch might actually be up for an oscar this time. I’m self-inviting. Are you coming with?--Who knows what middle-aged blond man could be there."

she’s not going to do anything in silence, least of all entertain the idea that zion was trying to implant in her head. they could joke when it was just the two of them, but there was no way to ever seriously consider what they were gesturing towards. besides, she didn’t remember ever saying that she was going to be a source of drama for them. whatever they signed up for, she tried to wipe from worried conscious. not worried— just cautious. 

“she’s not a doormat, she’s the editor in chief of a highly circulated magazine.” although even she knew, with all the facts and statistics at her fingertips, that emma reeves’ worth came more from last name and poised expression than actual work. it didn’t mean she had to say it. “and he wouldn’t risk that type of scandal.” affairs were deadly if found out, it rarely mattered the parties involved. “it doesn’t make sense.”

"M'kay," they say, trapezing over a laugh that is barely missed, swayed by their eyes rolling to their sides, the straw that's bit by the tips of front teeth. "She literally married into the job but... that's none of my business." Yet it will continue to be their business and pleasure the longer the conversation is fanned, feasting off of gossip and what could turn into it. There's a reason why they're friends; Chloe is like a lightning rod when it comes to this, whether she wants to admit it or not.

"You're so precious. I can't with you." Eyes are on her, the pouting lips that belong to a mother staring at their second-place pageant winner. "Girly pop, why do you think a dick is so far from the brain? It's not for doing long division with... unless..."

“i happen to like my life.” she had managed to skirt the spotlight, turning from potential child star into something of her own. she built herself and her career, she wasn’t about to throw it all away, even in a hypothetical scenario. “i couldn’t just get it.” personal feelings removed, she found it impossible to find an equation where the match made sense. it was illogical, and worse it was potentially career ending for at least one party. “no— i’m not entertaining this.” before she had a chance to spiral further down the what ifs that she didn’t even want in the first place, she shut it down. “they’ve both been more than nice to me. ever heard of losing friends?”

Eyes speak. They sway fully to one side, yelling in their openness, the outcry of a simple and sarcastically drenched 'whatever you say.' A flutter of lashes sweeps it aside, but hardly buries it, or even tries to, just centers on the next set of words that this time must be vocally addressed. "M'kay, so we're just going to thirst in silence? That's... tragic. And honestly not what I signed up for."

Their tongue laps at another cube, a lazy attempt at trying to coax it into their mouth with little success but perfect timing, free to speak without choking. "Uhm, who's this both?" Zion's face squints up, half-thought-half-slap. "The wife? What's that doormat going to do about it? Please. Love you, but you wouldn’t be his first side-piece. He's too pretty not to be a manwhore, so I'm not seeing the issue here...? That's on her."

Full Name: Zion Penrose King

Birthday: May 30th

Age: 25

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Religion: Self-Care

–Religious Level (1-10): 10

Birthplace: Los Angeles, California

Current Residence: Los Angeles, California

Height: 5′ 10″

Hair Color: Changes routinely. Currently pink. Naturally brown. 

Eye Color: Changes routinely through contacts. Naturally brown.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Love/Romantic Preference: Panromantic

Relationship Status: Single. Commitment-phobic/Self-destructive

Languages Known: English

Details

Car: Replica of a 1937 Delage D8 [x] in custom silver glitter paintjob. Still can’t drive it properly

Phone: iPhone 13 pro in gold. Sometimes connected to [x]

Music Genres: Marina & the Diamonds [Primadonna, Teen Idle, How to be a Heartbreaker, Bubblegum Bitch], Kate Nash [Merry Happy]

Wardrobe: [x]

Estimated Net Worth: Prometheus card at disposal. Is not part of the old money squad.  

Ransom Value: I think someone paid to arrange their kidnap/murder. Probably them.

Bloodlines + Connections

Clifford “Cliff” King | Father | Contract

Piper “Pippy” Andrews | Mother | Contract

Hayden King | Older Half-Brother (father’s side) | Contract

Chloe Miller | Probably their only real friend

Levels

Drinking (1-10): 7

Swearing: 5

Smoking status: 0. They don’t smoke.

Drugs: 3. Not opposed to some drugs, but also doesn’t have a habit.

Cooking proficiency: 1. They’re not cooking. Ever.

Intelligence: 7

Emotional/Social Intelligence: 7

Creativity: 9

“no, i don’t.” though she’s somewhat used to the inspection, trying to land on the right amount of attitude that made it seem like she understood what they were saying. really her morning routine consisted of little more than mascara and chapstick. she’d found early in life that the more color she added, the less people were inclined to listen to her. “i stopped wearing lipstick once i got off that talk show.” after that, there were no make-up artists to insist that chloe delaney needed red lips. 

the sound of ice crunching pushes her back into her own bubble of personal space, as though the sound was the offense and not anything that’s been said about her in the past few minutes. to some extent, it’s true, there’s always been something about loud noises. but the second point is corrected with, “it’s not living my best life to ruin— to mess up,” she took precautions, based on her line of work, based on her studies. there was nothing wrong with how she lived her life, except in these moments where zion was staring her down. “i happen to like the relationships i have.”

"Reel it back, babe." Their hand waves in the air, talking in between bites of ice that crashed between molars. "We're only talking about one daddy here, and it's not the one where all the issues come from, all right? Check it at the door, okay, thank you." Maybe hers would play with theirs, make it into a daycare, awaiting to be picked up the moment they were done, sometimes sooner.

Doubt riddles their face, makes it a point to show it clear as day to her. "But do you? This is the best you could make happen? Really?" Their eyes squinted at her, making it their mission to find a way to peel her back to her core, only to give up a moment later with an extended shrug. "All I'm saying is you could get it. But you do you." Another crunch, followed by the shaking of the last remnants that hadn't melted yet. "What is honestly the worst that would happen anyway? You’ve got nothing to lose."

“i don’t hang off his arm.” the literal is obvious, but the metaphoric is emphasized. just because she would prefer to have lunch with axe over most of the other people who offered didn’t mean she was obsessed. look at her other choices in conversation. “he’s just interested in my work.” as though it was about time someone understood what she spent all her time doing. after all it was both her job and her education, her whole life wrapped in the numbers that only one person had really thought to ask about. 

“and besides i—” their joke connects just a second late, dropping the end of whatever feeble defense she was trying to cobble together. she’s found there are some statements that if acknowledged will only make the entire conversation worse. this seems like one of those moments, where she’s run out of whatever luck she might have had. “i’m not a quaker. it’s unprofessional, don’t you remember what that’s like.”

"He is not just interested in your work if you worked these lips." Eyes flicker over the pair of them, cherub-shaped and full. They could absorb a palette all on their own. "There's a lot to take in there and a lot they can take, and you don't even plump them, do you?" They lean forward, closer inspection, before they've had enough, leaning back in an annoyed fall until something hits their back. "Disgusting."

Chloe has never had what it takes to deliver a comeback. They've counted on it for this long without fail, and so far the streak continues undefeated. "I remember a good time. Do you know what that's like? Because, uh no. You don't." The Starbucks cup is popped open, a cube of ice thrown into an open mouth to munch on with a shake of the head, maybe more disappointed than anything. Not surprised. "Even if he was without any strings, you still wouldn't lift a finger. All these excuses for what? You don't know the first thing about living your best life. At all."

the words are enough to wrinkle her face in disgust, the action makes her contemplate leaving the room altogether, as though that would be enough to wipe the entire conversation from her mind. “don’t call him that.” she knew her relationship with axe wasn’t exactly normal, enough people had gone out of their way to call attention to that. but it was just the difference between colleagues and friends, a boundary that had to be negotiated in every relationship. “he’s married.” as though it weren’t some obvious fact. 

the jokes all register as some version of inappropriate, but she’s always been just slightly off the mark to understand completely. certainly not enough to make any of her own. “i don’t want to know anything about that.”

"Oh, so because he has a ring on it means he can't be daddy? Shut up. When did you become a Quaker? Please." It certainly doesn't run in the family. Myles had been married enough times to prove it. Trust. It isn't like Zion doesn't know the feeling, anyways. Is Chloe really that pure-of-heart? Or is she just scared of coloring outside of her own lines? Sad to say that they have a better impression than most anyone out there. There's more to life than numbers and calculations, girlie.

"Mmhmm. You hang off his arm because he's got a great personality," they return, straw resting at the corner of their lips before it's pointed at her in that blasé manner. "All eight inches of it. Allegedly."

“i didn’t say that. i didn’t say—” her sentence caves at the word, as though she can’t say anything inappropriate out loud without risking it being held over her head for all of eternity. “his rap career is beneficial to his underground status.” so was dating in a lineage of renown producer and director credits, but all the facts rank the same. “fine. i don’t know who you’re talking about.” if it were a court room she would plead the fifth, but instead she has no choice to go for unconvincing ignorance. there are plenty of blonde people, men, in their conversations. “who has that kind of control?”

Zion's hum is garbled in the pit of their Starbucks cup. It's something like a garbage disposal being flicked on, emphasis on the disposal part with an additional emphasis on the garbage part. That segment of their conversation belongs exactly wherever used up lemon twists wind up, sometimes a touch of vomit chasing after for good measure. "Oh my fucking God..." is drawn out between the languid chews of a green straw and the rolling of eyes that might reach high enough up to get in touch with the Woman herself. But the straw is pulled out from the lid, pinched just beneath the bitemarks. Lost connection to a higher power. They'll have to settle for the role themselves. "Daddy Axe...? Like...?" Droplets are flicked on their tongue, a twisting hand rising up at her reaction they've already counted on. "Okay, bye. Keep your lies. I'm not the only one that wants to know what he's swinging, and I’m rooting for you to be the next Lizzy Borden, bitch.”

“the department doesn’t create scandal.” it certainly isn’t her job to go out and try and make a mess. if there’s anything that her life has taught her over and over again, it was the lower the profile the better. she knows that it’s just gossip, aiming at a target they were hoping to hit. her confused expression shows that they’ve definitely hit one.  “it’s not my job, i’m not doing that.” she turns over the thought in her mind, “who are you even talking about? tommy price?”

"Uhm, Chile. Anyways." The department doesn't create scandal, okay, sure. Whatever she says. That's none of their business. Except it is. It's al/ of their business, but right about now, Zion has their lips preoccupied with the end of a straw before the ice gets rattled apart, freeing up that last sip. They gag when Tommy's name gets said out in the open. "Tell me the soundcloud rapper is fuckable, and we're so done. I'm not even playing. Not today. I said blond man, honey. Not Tame Impala’s step-child, m’kay?"

“that’s not my job.” her tone is deadpanned, as though that’s not a point that’s been continually brought up since she landed the spot with the department. “her points are holding, there’s no reason for her to lose any favor right now.” unless some immediate unsalvageable scandal broke, going from the a-list to being cancelled overnight was a nearly impossible feat. she couldn’t even fathom breaking all those statistic patterns just because. “just because you don’t like her.”

"You better start making it your job, girlie. Whatever buttons you need to press to make it happen, I'm here for it." Too bad. Jade Bellamy is their best friend in another universe. Maybe that's this one. Doesn't mean Zion has to like the hoe. For now, that slot is made with a hacksaw, rough around the edges, and impossible to fill around the rim; Chloe comes the closest to it, but even she can probably feel the rougher spots from time to time. That's the beauty of the beast. "I should've been a blond man. They never hear no to needing a job done."