New People, New Places (Open, traveler)

[Vincent Clemens]

It was only a matter of time until Vin had to head into town. He was a traveler and despite how dangerous it was to go through, it would be much faster so long as he didn't get shot. But so long as he kept his head down and moved quickly, he shouldn't get stopped, but there was always the possibility of running into those two people from the flatlands. That would not be a fun encounter, he just had to hope they didn't live her and if they did, that they didn't see him.

The man was wearing a leather jacket and a khaki military backpack with sticks and  a folding cot strapped to the sides and it was packed full of different supplies. His military boots scraped against the ground as he quickly made his way down the street, obviously in a hurry. Although despite him being alone and seemingly helpless, he had a swan-off shotgun in a holster on his left thigh and then a knife over his left breast, hanging upside down from it's sheath attached to his backpack's strap. And judging from his rough appearance, he obviously want's one to be messed with. Not like that would matter to most of those from around here, since they were all probably more mad than himself.

The Vincent couldn't help but give the buildings around him some quick glances. They were in relatively good shape, the boards weren't very welcoming but all in all it was a pretty nice place. If it weren't for the reputation of this place, he'd probably slow his place and even try to spend the night and trade. He cast his eyes back down to the blacktop road when he past a group of strangers. He didn't doubt for a second that if given the chance, anyone would jump him around here. Again, he just had to keep his head down and not draw any sort of attention to himself.

[ashen]

[align=center]

text

[align=center]

[div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify; color: black;"]


Mettaton had been cleaning his knife, filing his nails, and spending a sunny day outside, humming a bit, when he heard some movement, and looked up from his work to see an oddly familiar figure. A small feeling of dread filled his stomach as the recognition set in--and then anger. He recalled just how terrified he'd been--and seeing this man here--in his home--that anger boiled over, edged with the remnants of panic he'd felt, and the lanky headhunter stood, hand gripping his knife. He forced a smirk onto his features, though right now he felt anything but secure. When someone scared him, that impression lasted. However, it was best to settle things--he didn't want to wake up with a knife in the back, and that meant he couldn't just keep his head down. The flamboyantly dressed man moved, striding in front of Vincent, one hand on his hip as the other held the knife carefully. "So--threatening me out there wasn't enough? What do you want here, old man? Hospitality?" His voice was cold--but there was a bit of a waver to it.

---

[spoiler=info — updated 1/25/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ METTATON DARLING | METTA | afab male (gnc)
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 24| oct/15 | real time
★ the badlands | grunt


IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ cute
★ glam
★ has a stash of makeup

PHYSICAL:
★ human [10.15/main] | health: 90%
— 6'3'' & 195 lbs; slender torso but muscled, great posture but narrow shoulders. Long, thick black hair that's wavy and shoulder length, often tucked behind an ear, rarely in a ponytail. Often covering up the eyepatch over his right eye. Blue eyes and generally wears black, accented with pink, purple, and blue.
— [i]major injuries: (missing an eye, affects peripheral vision and depth perception)

PERSONALITY:
- mettaton has a huge fear of being genuinely hated, not cared about, not being good enough. he is pretty good at masking this but he has anxiety.

- mettaton has black hair and blue eyes, he's caucasian. he has two studs above his eyebrow and he wears very dramatic clothing as well as wearing makeup quite frequently, as he has compiled a stash. He is about six feet, three inches tall, and is pretty average of weight. He has one eye and wears an eyepatch.

- Mettaton is extremely dramatic, flamboyant, and glamorous. He loves making a statement--of any kind. He's friendly, though quite self-centered, and likes to use pet names a lot--notably, calling people 'darling' quite often. He gets extremely enthusiastic about quite a lot, and thinks of himself as above most earthly things. Though he can seem shrewd and is certainly intelligent and creative, he can be quite idealistic, naive, and even gullible, easily manipulated. It can seem hard to shake his confidence, but he can be made an unwitting pawn of someone's game if they know how to play him.


RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ npc x npc| generation 1
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest

INTERACTION:
★ interacts with literally everyone he sees + quite friendly, even flirtatious
★ difficulty: 7/10 in battle | + strength, speed, agility | - stamina
★ tends to negotiate, but if he feels that's impossible, he likes to make the first move
★ attack in bold #D600BA
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]

[DEXTER.]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify"]

eyes the color of a sunbaked desert gazed around, zeroing in on the sight of his anything-but-drab friend speaking to someone that he didn't recognize. the young man stayed still for a second, evaluating the situation - his friend seemed hostile and slightly scared of this newcomer, while the new man seemed to be trying to blend in with the community. his pupils dilated at the sight of metta's knife - he hadn't seen it used it before but knew that metta was fully capable of murder, based on the first time they set eyes on each other.

the normally playful man stepped forward, snapping back to earth with an unpleasant jolt. his dark brows furrowed as he came into hearing range of both people. "woah, what's up between you two?" he asked, his tone serious.

---

[spoiler=info — updated 1/28/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ DEXTER MOREAU | DEX | CISGENDER MALE
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 22 years of age | august 12th | ages one per year, on birthday
★ the badlands | grunt

IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ speaks both french and english and isn't afraid to show off.
★ is slightly obsessed with fireworks, sparklers and other explosive pyrotechnics.
★ at night, you can find him looking at the stars although he doesn't often invite others.

PHYSICAL:
★ HUMAN [8.12 / main] | health: 100%
— a sharp jaw and high cheekbones line this young man's face, tracing defined bones on his sunkissed face. dark brows and chocolate-colored locks frame his face, forcing his honeybrown eyes to pop. his frame can be described as muscular but slightly lithe as well. he's worked hard to avoid being beaten up in the badlands, and doesn't take kindly to offense. his outfit usually consists of a white shirt and dark jeans, occasionally paired with a leather jacket.
— [i]major injuries: none

PERSONALITY:
dexter is, well, easygoing. he takes life with stride, savoring it and trying every single aspect of it. he's extremely loyal, without a doubt and would die for friends and family. he is ambitious and pursues his dreams without a second thought, although this may come back to haunt him in the future. at first, most people label him as the 'flirty player' or the 'lazy pervert' of the badlands, but once people get to know him they realize that that's not true (okay, maybe a little bit true). he's a dreamer inside, one who will look at the stars all night long and not even realize that it's morning until the galaxies above fade into a new day. he may seem completely self-confident, but he's afraid. he feels as if he can't trust anyone in the badlands, and the stars are his only escape. if people really knew him, they'd know that he wasn't either of the above titles; he's an 'easygoing loser'.

INVENTORY
★ a butterfly knife
★ a ballistic knife
★ semi-automatic pistol
★ fireworks
★ sparklers
★ romeo and juliet book
★ dried dog meat

RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ NPC x NPC | generation 2
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest

INTERACTION:
★ easily interacts + cautiously friendly
★ difficulty: 8/10 in battle | + strength & speed | - stamina & agility
★ begins battles, even if attempts to avoid
★ speech in bold #d3ac78
★ attack in bold #78a6d3
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]

[WOLFSBANE,]

[align=center][div style=" width: 460px; text-align: justify; line-height: 110%; font-family: verdana;"][sub][size=8pt]
The huntress raised a dark brow, tanned skin smeared with bits of mud as she wiped the remaining crimson stains from the blade of a notched machete that dangled firmly between her hands. Silver spectacles lifting upon the unsettlement of rugged vocals raising in the distance as she was quick to recognize Mettaton's cords along with another of a familiar, Vincent. Teeth were drug gentle upon the bottom of her lip as Romanova uncoiled her joints to stand at full height, a sense of hostility rattling her gaze as the grunt stowed away her rag within her pocket, weapon in hand upon approach before she was quick to stow it away upon the satchels of her belt, gun holsters hugging the woman's thighs.

Roman's arms lifted to cross one another, a narrowed gaze leaving into a glare as she calculated the masculine for a moment before unlatching her stony jaws. Somewhat stunned upon Mettaton's fiesty words, despite his rather fabulous nature, she never doubted that he'd be quick to raise a knife to one's throat. [color=#AF6332]"Come prancing in here looking for trouble?" She questioned with a tilt of her cranium, brow raising in question. Despite the questions rather hostile roots, her vocals carried no such venom and instead were replaced with a sense of amusement as the man attempted to sneak passed the Badland citizens with his head held low, a crooked smirk angling upon her features.

[spoiler=tags 1/30]
[color=#AF6332]GENERAL — manipulative
Romanova Bane | “Ro, Roman”
She / her | Female | Bisexual | Grunt
21 | January 26th | ENTJ  “The Commander”
[color=#AF6332]INFORMATION — blunt
Manipulates with ease
Kills without regret nor mercy
Carries a machete & multiple knives
Inspired by "The 100"
APPEARANCE — sarcastic
Romanova, a huntress of many talents enveloped within the art of battle as the militant finds war a rather interesting prospect, mainly because she excels as the art of battle and defense and enjoys the calculation that it carries. The grunt is known for her calculation after all, as her analyzation and quick thinking allows for graceful manipulation and finds ease in lying. With a cold heart and ruthless stare, the young adult considers herself rather merciless, however, she can find fairness in the slightest of situations. Despite her harsh exterior and sharp-tongue, Romanova is actually quite kind. Amusement seeping into her dappend soul like sweet cocoa butter and sarcasm enveloping her tongue with nectar- it isn’t too hard to make friends. However, with intimidation, she tends to draw them away, because she does in fact, bite.
PERSONALITY — cold
The female is of Russian and Brazilian decent, allowing for her tanned skin to radiate like the warmth of summer sunshine, her lips plump and her skin as soft as webbed silk. Dirt is usually spotted upon her features from usual hunting excursions as do the scars that litter her body. However, don’t be fooled, the girl is no ray of sunshine. Romanova’s thick brown hair cascades down the small of her back, usually held in a rather messy manner. With dark brows framing her features, it allows Roman’s silver spectacles to come of brilliance from her feminine almond-eyed stare. Faint freckles outlining the apples of her cheeks and cross bridge of her nose coccoon her skin. Long legs pedestooling the warrior at a height of 5’5 allow for a lean body and defined muscles to make of note. The goddess is usually found wearing darker colors. Tight black pants worn with gun straps about both thighs allow for maneuverability as a wolf pelt drapes over the side of one shoulder for warmth. A black parka worn just about all the time clings to her scarred skin paired with dark leather boots.
RELATIONSHIPS — direct
SINGLE | [ 0 ] crushes
npc x npc
CONFRONTATION — humble
Extremely hard physically | Medium hard
Can power play peaceful or nonviolent actions
Message for plots
Attack in bold #AF6332

[TATIANA]

[align=center]

k

TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands warchief, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you

Tat had decided to go hold a battle session that morning.  And she had been headed over to the area where she had decide it to be.  But to only over hear Mettaton speak to someone, and it was hostile.  Mettaton wasn't really a hostile person without a reason.  And so this was something that she needed to see.  "So--threatening me out there wasn't enough? What do you want here, old man? Hospitality?"  Walking up the girl with her baseball bat first saw Mettaton but then her green hued optics caught the figure of that fucking ASSHOLE.  And it quickly brought the girl too see why this was a fucking problem.  And it fucking was because she was there when Mettaton found his mean streak with this loner.  This girl was on her shit list, fuck she new she should have shot him, he wouldn't have been a problem now if she did.

"woah, what's up between you two?" Oh great it was Dexter, he had no idea what was the feud between Mettaton and this fucking douche nugget.  And now Tat was here to make that feud into a three sided one.  Opening up her mouth to speak to then be cut off by the new chick Romanova.  "Come prancing in here looking for trouble?"  Wow something subtle came from this chick, how fucking cool.

Walking over she wanted to beat this man right over the head with her fucking baseball bat.  "Look here you fucking asshole, I could've fucking shot you in the back, in the loner lands."  She spoke her voice only filled with hostility, and she was read to rip this dude a fucking new one.  He was trouble, he wasn't someone that she liked either.  As he had claimed himself a nice shiny spot on her fucking shit-list.  First he tried to take Mettaton's stuff in the lonerlands, and now he just walked into the den of Badlands.  No way was this warchief letting this fucking slide.  "You're in Badland territory, and I demand you tell me what your business is here, or we will kill you."


[spoiler=TAGS | UPDATED 1/29]GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Warchief
✨ Spotify playlist ✨

NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.

PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%

PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed

INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter

RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:

INTERACTION

✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures  [/spoiler]

[Vincent Clemens]

Looks like he did very well in catching the attention of everyone who lived here. Sadly that was not what he had intended, just hopefully he could get out of this without a few scars to help remind him of this day. Seeing that his path was blocked, he stopped in front of Mettaton. His hazel gaze first rested on the man he'd met not too long ago, obviously he was pissed by the fright he'd given him, but he didn't seem to be quite over that fear. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. To be frank, he was neck deep in shit right now and he'd take any advantage that was offered to him.

"No, I'd rather have you leave me alone." He told the man, deciding that now was not a time to cause trouble. He wasn't surprised to see these two again, he had a strong feeling that they came from here. Although that hadn't kept him from hoping and dammit his hope had been in vain. "It's none of your business." He muttered to Dexter, not turning away from Mettaton and his knife.

He spared a glance at the next to speak up and my did she look far more intimidating than anyone else here. Now she brought some fear into his heart, despite her tone of voice, her weapons and her overall appearance was enough to keep him away from her. Of everyone here he knew he'd rather not cause any trouble with her. "I'm just passing through to Saint Peter's, so just give me a day and I'll be out of your hair." He said, lighting his gruff tone so that he sounded a bit more innocent as he answered both of the women's questions.

Then onto the girl, the one who managed to sneak up on him and press a gun to his back. He was lucky the Huntress came and stopped anything from happening, otherwise he might have a hole in his back. He felt like saying, 'yeah and I could of shot your friend, so you should count yourself lucky.' but again, it would be bad to antagonize these people even further, he'd rather not have to waste his ammo on these people, despite how much they may all deserve it. So he didn't say anything else to her and hoped his words would possibly defuse the situation.

[ashen]

[align=center]

text

[align=center]

[div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify; color: black;"]

Mettaton wasn't okay with him being here--but as everyone crowded around, more weapons getting shown, he felt even more uncomfortable. A fight breaking out here wouldn't be good--and he couldn't imagine this man hesitating to shoot if they made the first move.

"Tati, don't stab him, please--" His voice was still tense, wavering, and he put his own away, staring down at Vincent. "You're going to take a whole day here?" Speaking directly to Vincent, asking him this--it scared him. "Why do you need to pass through--can't you go around?"

---

[spoiler=info — updated 1/25/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ METTATON DARLING | METTA | afab male (gnc)
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 24| oct/15 | real time
★ the badlands | grunt


IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ cute
★ glam
★ has a stash of makeup

PHYSICAL:
★ human [10.15/main] | health: 90%
— 6'3'' & 195 lbs; slender torso but muscled, great posture but narrow shoulders. Long, thick black hair that's wavy and shoulder length, often tucked behind an ear, rarely in a ponytail. Often covering up the eyepatch over his right eye. Blue eyes and generally wears black, accented with pink, purple, and blue.
— [i]major injuries: (missing an eye, affects peripheral vision and depth perception)

PERSONALITY:
- mettaton has a huge fear of being genuinely hated, not cared about, not being good enough. he is pretty good at masking this but he has anxiety.

- mettaton has black hair and blue eyes, he's caucasian. he has two studs above his eyebrow and he wears very dramatic clothing as well as wearing makeup quite frequently, as he has compiled a stash. He is about six feet, three inches tall, and is pretty average of weight. He has one eye and wears an eyepatch.

- Mettaton is extremely dramatic, flamboyant, and glamorous. He loves making a statement--of any kind. He's friendly, though quite self-centered, and likes to use pet names a lot--notably, calling people 'darling' quite often. He gets extremely enthusiastic about quite a lot, and thinks of himself as above most earthly things. Though he can seem shrewd and is certainly intelligent and creative, he can be quite idealistic, naive, and even gullible, easily manipulated. It can seem hard to shake his confidence, but he can be made an unwitting pawn of someone's game if they know how to play him.


RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ npc x npc| generation 1
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest

INTERACTION:
★ interacts with literally everyone he sees + quite friendly, even flirtatious
★ difficulty: 7/10 in battle | + strength, speed, agility | - stamina
★ tends to negotiate, but if he feels that's impossible, he likes to make the first move
★ attack in bold #D600BA
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]

[WOLFSBANE,]

[align=center][div style=" width: 460px; text-align: justify; line-height: 110%; font-family: verdana;"][sub][size=8pt]The woman's venomous gaze turned upon the teenager momentarily as she approached with hostility crowning upon her gaze. The girl didn't seem to like her too much, even from first encounters the Warlord seemed to hold dislike for her. Not that she gave a fuck what Tatiana thought. Although, she rather did admire the girl's ferocious persona. A brow was raised upon Romanova's features as she watched the feminine before her focus returned elsewhere to examine the man in calculation. Arms crossed as her stony expression remained cold and void of emotion.

Licking her lips, a smirk caressed her features as he tensened upon her presence before the expression faded upon Mettaton's words. A moment of silence taken before she put in her own opinion, [color=#AF6332]"Quite frankly, I could care less if you pass through. If one of us doesn't drive a knife through your back someone else will, if anything you're going to get jumped," Romanova warned last, ruthless silver-eyed spectacles snaking over his own. However, by the looks of it, the masculine was capable of defending himself. Walking into the belly of the beast, however, wasn't the smartest of options, even with a gun in hand.

[spoiler=tags 1/31]
[color=#AF6332]GENERAL — manipulative
Romanova Bane | “Ro, Roman”
She / her | Female | Bisexual | Grunt of Prey
21 | January 26th | ENTJ  “The Commander”
[color=#AF6332]INFORMATION — blunt
Manipulates with ease
Kills for pleasure & sport
Ashen face paint smeared over her features
Outstanding hunter
Inspired by "The 100"
APPEARANCE — sarcastic (fc)
Romanova, a huntress of many talents enveloped within the art of battle as the militant finds war a rather interesting prospect, mainly because she excels as the art of battle and defense and enjoys the calculation that it carries. The grunt is known for her calculation after all, as her analyzation and quick thinking allows for graceful manipulation and finds ease in lying. With a cold heart and ruthless stare, the young adult considers herself rather merciless, however, she can find fairness in the slightest of situations. Despite her harsh exterior and sharp-tongue, Romanova is actually quite kind. Amusement seeping into her dappend soul like sweet cocoa butter and sarcasm enveloping her tongue with nectar- it isn’t too hard to make friends. However, with intimidation, she tends to draw them away, because she does in fact, bite.
PERSONALITY — cold
The female is of Russian and Brazilian decent, allowing for her tanned skin to radiate like the warmth of summer sunshine, her lips plump and her skin as soft as webbed silk. Dirt is usually spotted upon her features from usual hunting excursions as do the scars that litter her body. However, don’t be fooled, the girl is no ray of sunshine. Romanova’s thick brown hair cascades down the small of her back, usually held in a rather messy manner. With dark brows framing her features, it allows Roman’s silver spectacles to come of brilliance from her feminine almond-eyed stare. Faint freckles outlining the apples of her cheeks and cross bridge of her nose coccoon her skin. Long legs pedestooling the warrior at a height of 5’5 allow for a lean body and defined muscles to make of note. The goddess is usually found wearing darker colors. Tight black pants worn with gun straps about both thighs allow for maneuverability as a wolf pelt drapes over the side of one shoulder for warmth. A warn furred parka worn just about all the time clings to her scarred skin paired with dark leather boots.
RELATIONSHIPS — direct
SINGLE | [ 0 ] crushes
npc x npc
INVENTORY — annoyed
x1 horse
x1 machete
x3 throwing knives
x1 canteen
x1 pack of matches
CONFRONTATION — humble
Extremely hard physically | Medium hard
Often shows mercy
Can power play peaceful or nonviolent actions
Message for plots
Attack in bold #AF6332

[Vincent Clemens]

His shoulders slumped a bit as it appeared that he wasn't going to find himself in the trouble he feared. Thank goodness this guy had a love of life, otherwise they would have a problem. He shrugged at his question, doubting it would actually take him a full day to pass through. "It's an estimate, I don't know how many of you will stop me before I make it out of this city. Plus, I'd rather cut as much travel time as possible." He explained, relieved to also see the man's knife go away, making him a bit more willing to speak. He also couldn't help but take note of what he called the girl carrying the bat, although not the most helpful information to know, it was still interesting.

At what the rather intimidating woman said he dug into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a single red shotgun shell. He wondered how many of them doubted he even had any ammo for his weapon, perhaps this will be proof enough for them to leave him alone. "Well, if they want to try, I hope they like the taste of lead." He said in a raised tone, holding the shell up for the group around him to see before placing it back in his pouch before someone tried to make a grab for it. Ammo was worth more than a life these days, and he'd rather not lose one without at least sending someone to hell with it.

[ashen]

[align=center]

text

[align=center]

[div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify; color: black;"]


There was a lot Metta could say to him, and he wanted to--or he wished he did. He could, he was sure, get everyone in the vicinity to attack this man; though that wasn't exactly a difficult feat. But he didn't want to. More than anything, he just wanted him gone--and not in the 'dead' sense, either. Just gone.
When the man showed the shell, Mettaton visibly bristled--as he came to the conclusion that yes, Vincent's gun had been loaded when it had been pointed at his back.

His brush with death felt a lot more real, seeing it, and he moved back, nodding silently. He hadn't really heard what Roman had said, and he just hoped none of the rest of them caused much of a scene. The sickness in his stomach was growing and he wanted the old man to hurry the fuck up.

---

[spoiler=info — updated 1/25/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ METTATON DARLING | METTA | afab male (gnc)
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 24| oct/15 | real time
★ the badlands | grunt


IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ cute
★ glam
★ has a stash of makeup

PHYSICAL:
★ human [10.15/main] | health: 90%
— 6'3'' & 195 lbs; slender torso but muscled, great posture but narrow shoulders. Long, thick black hair that's wavy and shoulder length, often tucked behind an ear, rarely in a ponytail. Often covering up the eyepatch over his right eye. Blue eyes and generally wears black, accented with pink, purple, and blue.
— [i]major injuries: (missing an eye, affects peripheral vision and depth perception)

PERSONALITY:
- mettaton has a huge fear of being genuinely hated, not cared about, not being good enough. he is pretty good at masking this but he has anxiety.

- mettaton has black hair and blue eyes, he's caucasian. he has two studs above his eyebrow and he wears very dramatic clothing as well as wearing makeup quite frequently, as he has compiled a stash. He is about six feet, three inches tall, and is pretty average of weight. He has one eye and wears an eyepatch.

- Mettaton is extremely dramatic, flamboyant, and glamorous. He loves making a statement--of any kind. He's friendly, though quite self-centered, and likes to use pet names a lot--notably, calling people 'darling' quite often. He gets extremely enthusiastic about quite a lot, and thinks of himself as above most earthly things. Though he can seem shrewd and is certainly intelligent and creative, he can be quite idealistic, naive, and even gullible, easily manipulated. It can seem hard to shake his confidence, but he can be made an unwitting pawn of someone's game if they know how to play him.


RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ npc x npc| generation 1
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest

INTERACTION:
★ interacts with literally everyone he sees + quite friendly, even flirtatious
★ difficulty: 7/10 in battle | + strength, speed, agility | - stamina
★ tends to negotiate, but if he feels that's impossible, he likes to make the first move
★ attack in bold #D600BA
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]