You're Beautiful -Open + Joining/Introduction/injured-

[Sylmae Winzor]

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Sylmae wasn't entirely sure what had brought her here in the first place. She had spent days out in the wild all on her own every since the devastation, but one did tend to grow lonely after a while. She only kept sane by talking to random passersby who weren't out to kill her or loot from her stuff, made a few friends and then she moved on. She found the idea of settling down in one place a lot harder than most did, because it was hard to trust people these days. She had been attacked a number of times, this last time being the reason she had taken to finding somewhere to settle. The knife would in her side was more than a little painful and didn't allow for easy travel and she didn't want to make any risk of infection worse. Sighing softly, the young woman glanced down to her side, crudely wrapped in bandages, blood starting to spot on the sides of it as it had grown a bit old. "I should have been more careful." She whispered softly as she lowered her hand to protectively cover her wound as her eyes fixated on the lands she had heard called the Badlands.

Was it safe to say that she was terrified to be joining someplace new? Yes, but she was open to the idea of trying, even if it meant that she might end up hurt. She needed to stay safe, at least until she was healed. If she didn't find the place suitable, then perhaps she could leave and find a new place to stay, or live on her own once more, on the run. Always moving. She never seemed to stop, not even for a moment, but it appeared that life style had not been friendly to her. She lowered herself to the ground and grossed her legs, pulling her pack into her lap as she pulled out a few things. A can or two of food and some simple yet slightly rusty knives. Her katana still remained strapped to her back but the rest was a peace offering, something that she hoped would allow the lot of them to see that she came in peace, meant no harm. She wasn't much for the way of guns, and she never did have a knack for even finding ammunition for such a thing, but one magazine, half empty, lay among the knives she was offering, no gun to match. Perhaps someone here would have something to fit with it.

Tucking her pack as close to her body as she could without causing her pain, the brunette lowered her gaze to the ground and simply waited for the sound of foot steps, or a voice. Perhaps, if it took them long enough, she'd fall asleep on the border, though she hoped that wasn't something that would happen.

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[spoiler=tags(not currently filled out/working on)]
[size=7pt]GENERAL:
name — ♂ — romantic + sexual orientation
Mentally: 00 months — Physically: 00 months
½ of prominent ship — title/location

RELATIONSHIPS:
status — sexual interest: # — romantic interest: #
parent x parent — gen ?

PHYSICAL:
physical appearance here
other bodies:
health 00%

PERSONALITY:
personality here
• developing traits:

CONFRONTATION:
• hard/medium/soft mentally — hard/medium/soft physically
• starts/prevents/negotiates fights — ends fight quickly/leisurely/till won
• speech in COLOR and bolded on mobile
• Attack in COLOR
• Can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful actions.[/spoiler]

[DEXTER.]

[justify][font=arial]//mobile, so i don't have my tags on me

loping footsteps leisurely, almost lazily, approached the newcomer. she had set some random objects out, and a shoe-clad foot nudged a rusty knife. "i think you'll be needing these," escaped from his pearly pink lips, the undertone of a drawl lacing his words. liquid honey eyes observed the sight - the young woman in front of him seemed it be injured, or faking an injury, on her side, which caused a flicker of concern.

"you should get that looked at. you joining or what?" he added, continuing in the slight drawl and boredly flicking a lighter from inside his jeans pocket. damn, he would kill for a cigarette right then. "here's your shi- ahem, stuff.." a sunkissed hand reached down to hand the knife and other objects back, while dark, chocolate brown brows furrowed.

a few strands of similarly colored strands of hair brushed his forehead, but he didn't bother to reach up and brush them away. he was thinking mainly about what he did and what he planned to do - he had slept in rather late, eaten slowly, and made an attempt at helping mettaton hunt.. very productive, in his opinion.

[Darky]

John's footsteps were soft and quiet; like a predator stalking their prey. But there was no prey around here except for humans, and John was reserving any killing urges for Mettaton. Was that weird? Nah, probably not.

He observed the sight of Dexter and the newcomer silently for a moment. Dexter was trying to be nice, and John could respect that; most Badlanders he knew would snatch up the stuff and leave her to rot.

"Yeah, keep your stuff." John said in agreement. "And that looks bad. I don't know if we have any doctors, but I can run and try to find one."

[ALYSSA,]

[align=center][div style="border:0px transparent;width:480px;text-align:justify;font-size:9pt"][font=verdana]Injures were a lot more complicated in this world than they had been before. A simple scrape could lead easily to an infection without clean plasters, medicine or cleaning pads. Alyssa had learnt that the hard way once she left her small village home-town: there had been nothing left for her in her birth home, so stupidly she had taken nothing, which also included necessary medical supplies. Scars littered her hands and knees from months of endless wandering in woods. Her most obvious injury was the unevenly stitched scar across her face on her cheek; she had won a loaf of bread for the open wound, fighting a man twice her age with nothing but a rusty machete and her determination. That bread had kept her alive for a few more days, and if that had meant a scar on her face, who was she to complain?

The dark haired girl ran a hand over her hair, a habit she had always had. Her normal hair only reached her collar bones, but when it was plaited up in French braids only small tuffs of black hair poked out at the nape of her neck. Alyssa said nothing as she arrived, her heavy-soled boots making no sound as she gingerly stepped closer and closer. An injured joiner wasn't interesting news anymore, not in a rough place like this, and Alyssa wondered how long the woman would last. She looked nice. Too nice, probably, for The Badlands.

[spoiler=TAGS]+ Alyssa
+ Fourteen years old | Born February 6th 2002
+ Lives in The Badlands | Grunt of War
+ Female | She/her
+ Asexual | Single, not looking
+ Carries throwing stars with her at all times
+ Faceclaim: Isabelle Fuhrman
+ APPERANCE: Alyssa is described as being only 5'0 in height and very skinny for her age. She has dark brown/borderline black hair that is braided up into French braids, however her hair only reaches her collarbones so the ends of the braids stick out. Her eyes are dark and wide; she used to get bullied by her siblings and called Anime freak because of it. Her skin is very pale and unhealthy looking; across her cheek is an unevenly stitched scar from a knife attack. She has three piercings on each lobe and is often seen wearing black jeans, black boots and a green bomber coat. Never is Alyssa seen smiling or looking happy.
+ PERSONALITY: Unsympathetic, cold-hearted, quiet, strategic, blunt, child solider, unapproachable, always on edge, unintentionally rude, lots of trust issues, has a deep hatred for her parents, pessimistic.
+ HISTORY: Alyssa was only young when the world changed, so her memories of "the normal world" are hazy and (mostly) incorrect. After her siblings died from gun related violence, she witnessed her pregnant mother commit suicide. It was only few weeks into the apocalypse when she was orphaned and ever since has been travelling to find the right place to stay. Being a lone wolf from as young as eleven has made her stronger and colder towards normal life. She accidentally stumbled upon The Badlands and now resides there, living in an empty apartment by herself.[/spoiler]

[ashen]

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Mettaton was everywhere; and after their 'hunt', he'd had a nice meal before wandering about the city as he often did. Running into Dexter again--and John, unfortunately--wasn't on purpose, but he was happy enough to do so. Today, his mood was bright and optimistic, so he merely disregarded the manservant in favor of waltzing up to see what they were all looking at.

It was a woman. She was quite attractive, really, with her dark lashes and her lustrous hair--very conventionally beautiful--and as Mettaton approached, he reasoned--there was nothing wrong with beauty being conventional, was there? He certainly was. Well. By some standards. Not by others. He waved a hand, nails tipped with purple, a bright grin emanating from his cheerful features. He was taller than everyone here, something he was used to and quite fond of. It made it easier to get attention. "Good morning, darlings! Who's this?" He blinked, pushing his hair behind his ear, and looked over to Dexter--just enough time to give him a playful wink, before frowning a little at John. "Actually, as far as doctors--your...mistress? Anyway, Sel could help patch that up. If she wanted to." He glanced back at the young woman, shrugging and looking a bit confused at all she had on the ground.

"That looks quite unpleasant, my dear. I'd be glad to help escort you to Sel--she might be less likely to make that wound worse if her friends ask." This comment was, quite obviously, a bit of a dig at John--but that was all. He wasn't here to get in a fight, but some things he couldn't help.

---

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


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]

[Sylmae Winzor]

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Sylmae shifted a little as the first of the Badlanders arrived and she looked up at the male, listening as he caught himself on his words, choosing not to spew a profanity at her. Odd. Weren't these guys supposed to be big bad and tough? Well, she wasn't about to judge anyone for how they acted, it surely wasn't her place to do so, anyways. "I'm very well equipped with just my sword, and these aren't the only ones I have, I assure you. They were more an offer of.. well, I guess, something, in hopes that with it, you guys might uhm, fix my up a bit. I am not quite skilled in the art of fixing up a stab wound. And the bullets do me no good without a gun." Mae said, and it was likely she would have offered him some form of a shrug, if she knew it wouldn't tug on her wound and make it hurt even more than it already did. But just as she thought she was going to get off lucky with just him being there, one person to deal with, a few more started to pour in and she bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced over the others and then let her eyes refocus briefly on Dexter. "Joining sounds like.. a good idea." She was unsure of the choice herself, as she still wasn't sure joining anything was a good idea but if they kept her safe, or at least gave her the means to do so on her own, that was a good thing. A bonus.

More words flowed from the next person to show up, John and she swallowed a little bit. "No need to go out of your way for me though it would be appreciated. I've been dressing the wound myself for some time but it hasn't seem to done the trick. I could just be screwing something up. Oh and uhm. I'm Sylmae.. Sylmae Winzor but you can call me whatever you like." She said and shifted a little bit, pushing herself to her feet after stuffing the objects back into her bag. Perhaps, if they wanted the things she didn't need, they would come for them later, or she'd just have extra things in case anything ever happened to her katana. This guy, aside from the other, seeming a great deal nicer, perhaps more polite, though she wasn't about to go and get her hopes up thinking that everyone here was nice and that this was really a good idea. This was a half-assed decision she probably shouldn't have made but there was no backing out now. She was in this for the long-haul.

The girl that followed the two large men was adorable, appearing to be a bit younger than Mae herself. She watched her as the girl ran a hand through her hair and she offered her the smallest, simplest of smiles. Perhaps she could think about befriending the girl in the future, if all worked out properly, but she knew nothing of this place yet, and she had no idea just what kind of trouble she was getting herself into. She tucked her bag over her shoulder, shifting her katana and its sheath under the pack to keep it in place as her eyes trailed over the girl to fall on Mettaton, a rather perky and polite face, something that surprised her and raised that hope just a little bit more for her. Not everyone was bad. She needed to keep reminding herself that, and if she was lucky, she wouldn't ever forget it.

"I'm.. ah, Sylmae, nice to meet you. Love your nails, by the way." Mae was doing her best at small talk, though it was obvious she had been without such a thing for very long, and she was crap at the simple function. Her tanned cheeks flushed just a little at the realization of her failure and she offered him a weak smile as she glanced down towards the ground, swallowing hard. Perhaps this was too much for her, she could just turn back, leave and never come back, but what good was the life of a loner when you longed to make friends and be apart of something? Lifting her chocolate hues back up to the male, she listened to his words, and though she was confused by them, only a bit, she did pick up on the name. "Sel.. Uhm.. I mean.. If she doesn't have time to, I can do it myself, again, I just need.. y'know, bandages. I'm doing a great job of it but I really would like to not impose on your lives." Her voice cracked a bit as she stared at Mettaton and then let her eyes shift over the group once more. They were all an odd bunch, none like the other, and she was almost positive that there was something weird going on between Mettaton and John, but she wasn't going to assume such. Once she was settled in, she was almost certain she'd hear some of the gossip eventually.

---

[spoiler=tags(not currently filled out/working on)]
[size=7pt]GENERAL:
name — ♂ — romantic + sexual orientation
Mentally: 00 months — Physically: 00 months
½ of prominent ship — title/location

RELATIONSHIPS:
status — sexual interest: # — romantic interest: #
parent x parent — gen ?

PHYSICAL:
physical appearance here
other bodies:
health 00%

PERSONALITY:
personality here
• developing traits:

CONFRONTATION:
• hard/medium/soft mentally — hard/medium/soft physically
• starts/prevents/negotiates fights — ends fight quickly/leisurely/till won
• speech in COLOR and bolded on mobile
• Attack in COLOR
• Can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful actions.[/spoiler]

[Darky]

He listened to her chatter silently, only sending a glare at Mettaton as the verbal jab. He was fine with ignoring the tall man for now; he didn't need more shit on his reputation.

"Well if you're joining, Sylmae, it'd be best for us to get you to a doctor instead of tossing bandages your way and praying for the best." John said, not confident that Sel would help and not just poison the poor girl but it was worth a try; he'd probably bail before they got there though, he didn't want to see Sel. Or anybody. He wanted to go live in a damned hole and chase off anybody that tried to even look at him.

"I'm John by the way, most people call me Whiskers though. And Metta lives with Sel, so I doubt she'd be pissy if he brought you in. She might even flirt with you, who knows." He drawled the joke, his mouth quirking slightly.