Maltbie Pritchard ||
Seventeen Years Old ||
Female ||
From Virbank City, Unova
" Oh, right, here's what they came up for my backstory ... "
Her mother's lips first said the word "Maltbie" in a confused hush, questioning the middle name of her hermit aunt. The letters stuck to the back of her mother's subconscious until the day they appeared again under "future children" on the same sheet of paper where an idle teenaged version of her mother silently proclaimed love for the new Pritchard boy that just transferred to her school. After marrying as high school sweethearts in an almost fairytale-esc fashion, the name "Maltbie" was spoken for the third time - with her mother's hand stroking her first impregnated belly. The significance of a namesake never crossed her mother's mind.
Being the daughter to a set of more-than-averagely attractive parents, Maltbie was suspected to be of an almost elite grade of beauty. Despite the genes from which she came however, a plain baby with mussy black hair and an unremarkable face arrived. Not that it deterred the hearts of her parents, who were more than happy to simply care and raise another human life; but the neighbors spoke of the curiosity quite frequently. Maltbie, as a girl, occasionally heard a whisper questioning where she got such a large set of teeth, or why her hair defied to adopt her father's sleek aesthetic. When her mother decided to expand their family to include three younger sons that conformed to her parent's charms, onlookers only began picking at the mystery more ferociously.
Her parents, not really noticing this in their happily-ever-after adventures, didn't understand why Maltbie began to grow quiet and self-conscious in her pre-teen years. And without much other hardship to combat her supposedly mundane problems, Maltbie became obsessed with her inward self - believing her outside was not a desirable feature. Supposedly, this time set the stage for when the girl began to grow strange.
Outwardly, her appearance disheveled; juxtaposing awfully against the background of her perfectly groomed brothers and her wealthy private school peers. Her hair began to flow and curl at odd points down her giraffe-like neck, only accentuating the disaster when she haphazardly placed it up in a bun. Her shirts were never properly buttoned and the necktie was always off-point, and she loved to accessorize in peculiar ways that shifted with her moods. Her very hair color liked to sporadically change too, and Maltbie often recalls events to when she had a certain color rather than specific dates.
She has a special place in her heart for her moniker -
"Rumor Girl" - because it's fascinating what kinds of stories other people make up about her. Some of her favorites include Sonya Green's, president of yearbook and dedicated cheerleader, story about how she was a hex maniac and ate ghost-types to build up an unholy power. Or Robby Alzada's, former neighbor and lifelong mailman, tale detailing how she sacrificed fishes to a god she made up in one of her novels to supposedly manifest them into real life. Though, a lot of uncreative people - that, frankly, she was disappointed in - just assumed she was what they'd like to call "simple."
But the reality was more ... ideological, or temporal. After greeting her parents - who were usually dancing in the foyer, reviewing the latest trending book, or getting their youngest to practice his latest saxophone composition for them - she would sit in her dimly lit room messily sketching people and locations. She often drew self-portraits, building an eclectic collection of renditions she wanted to become. She would also write oddly-structured stories, ones her English teachers wouldn't understand, with a weird sense of humor and tone. But, most importantly, she began to develop a bizarre way of looking at the world. She started believing everything in her life was fictional. Her memories and appearance were simply the products of a writer scribbling down facts and milestones - for, when she considered the worlds her own characters inhabited - wasn't she that for them?
Slowly her body and face grew into a shape more conventionally beautiful as puberty began to hit and she found herself toning her body while on a dance team her parents encouraged her to join. However, having spent so much time as Rumour Girl had forever changed her, and still to this day she off-puts people with a mentality that makes her treat not only them, but herself, as if they weren't even real.
How she took the big step from her home in Unova to the cold expanse of Sinnoh is through her school. Most of the time, everyone forgets that she does exceptionally well in her classes, garnering a GPA that currently stands at a 3.89. As such and with the generous backing of her parents - who absolutely adored the idea of flaunting around that their daughter was going someplace foreign - she qualified for a year abroad with a handful of other students, getting "real-world" Pokemon experience and having the chance to go on a monitored journey of sorts. The curriculum of the trip requires her to take part in the league, which she doesn't mind at all, but she is far more excited about the culture, Pokemon, locations, and contests than anything else.
" I'm a pretty charming person, I assure you. "
The primary fixture in Maltie's personality is her impeccable ability to treat everything around her - even herself - with fictional presence. She often talks to an imaginary narrator, who she assumes is an older male with a rich voice that's "coarse and warm like swimming in a vat of liquid white chocolate." She'll talk about her impressions of a person whilst standing right in front of them, break other's comfort zones easily, and commonly come off as rude. She has a very judgmental nature, seeing small things and squabbles as "trivial little details." She jokes sometimes that she's searching for a main plot to be apart of since she's forsaken her planned one by travelling so far away from home; constantly trying to figure out what kind of format her story is in and what genre it's supposed to be. She often comes up with a definite answer only to change her mind shortly after. All in all, her approach is less than delicate and mostly harsh and lackadaisical. There's a good amount of knowledge in her head, but it's constantly overpowered by a weird sense of existentialism.
Otherwise, call her a bit narcissistic. Having no stable friends, she believes she's the main character of her universe; and therefore perhaps has a more important life and intriguing personality than most. She likes to pry people emotionally to disprove her theory, but often doesn't think of others in material or practical matters - seeing them as minor characters whose benefit won't really help her in the long run. That said, she's not one to let anything off the hook and she easily gets bitter when someone trespasses her. Being the most important thing in her life, she takes personal and worldly offensive to this gesture. However, she does keep an eye out for anyone interesting or out-of-the-norm; because she's destined to learn some kind of lesson in her "story" - anyone more characterized than most people might hold valuable information to who she is, what she needs to become, and her goals to being the "best version of herself." Ultimately, she'd like to "end her story properly." Perhaps with love or a thrilling death if need be. Some might say that this comes from her basic character, but an introspective person might uncover a desire to come into a life that's as lovely as her parent's. This introspection might not prevent her from coming of as somewhat elitist, but at least there's a reason for you.
And for someone who grew up introverted and still claims to be once in a while, she has a lot of energy she needs to outwardly express. She tends to do this in her physicality, often making sudden movements and gestures, and talking her thoughts aloud regardless of who's around to hear them. Also, she's not really all that good with people. She thinks they're fascinating enough to dedicate a thought or two towards, maybe even barrage with questions, but she lacks tact. In anything, really. She doesn't
do subtlety and tries her best to blurt out assumed subtext she finds in someone else. She also hates when someone proves to be boring and has nothing consequential to say, trying her best to skip over unimportant dialogue and conversations to get right down to the juicy center of a topic between her and someone else.
Most importantly - she still sketches. While she hasn't produced a good substantial story in a while, she does still sit down and draw things that come to her. This is perhaps a habit she will never kick. It's important to her, and anything that comes in-between her and expressing herself will instantly trigger aggressiveness.
" Hm ... I mean, most of the stuff I wear is pretty expensive for what it is ... "
Some might call her a modest vision within a rough shell, though she doesn't refer to her looks much besides when she comments "I'm pretty now." Her skin tone is slightly tan, hinting at a strong Hispanic influence, and she stands relatively tall at 5"11. She likes to play around with make-up to try different looks, mimicking ideas she thinks up in her sketchbook. Her affairs with dance have made her a slip of a woman with a bone structure that presses sharply on her skin. Her hair is long and untidy in that bun she keeps on the back of her head. Her true black hair pushes a dyed carrot orange away from her roots. Sadly, she missed the opportunity to get her hair the red or purple color she wanted before leaving, and has grown slightly tired of the color she has now. She has both her ears pierced and has a variety of earrings to go in them - nothing too cutesy, mind - but she usually likes to settle on a practical set of small hoops. She also whips out a pair of "dorky glasses" she has for reading purposes, since all those late-night drawing sessions have damaged her eyesight to a significant degree. She's not a big fan of bracelets, but she does have a small collection of rings on her fingers.
She often wears formal clothing and has a wide variety of skirts in line with her upbringing, though her messiness somewhat impedes the chicness. You can catch her wearing things like blouses, blazers, neckties or scarves, and durable slip-ons or small boots; the color schemes changing in accordance with what complements her hair color. Occasionally, in cold scenarios, you'll see her wearing a white beanie she always keeps with her. She has a small leather satchel she carries on her for the small necessities every trainer needs.
" People will always remember a strange an interesting battle over a strong trainer. "
Having grown up with a window that detailed the sprawling beauty of Route 20, she became a huge fan of nature and warm weather. In her spare time she would take small trips into the route: sometimes bringing a picnic so she could eat and perhaps attract critters. Having drawn the Pokemon that route provides so often, she has grown a fondness for Bug-Type Pokemon and has a strong appreciation for their unique and oftentimes niche talents and abilities. Although, she's still feels at home when utilizing Grass, Poison, or Rock types. Her battle style often focuses on what a lot of people at her school dubbed "annoyances" - specializing in status moves that inflict conditions, flinch the opponent, absorb health, or compromise them in some way. That being said, her biggest weakness when battling is that she perhaps doesn't bother with attack moves unless they hit hard or have a nice "flourish" to their execution. She has expressed interest in contests.
Route 20 is where she captured her first companion. Strangely, she plans nickname her Pokemon types of cheese.
" Four Corners " ♂
Impish Nature
Explosion | Rapid Spin
Giga Drain | Iron Defense
Pain Split | Gravity
" I thought this whole profile was my prologue? "
She gripped Four Corners tightly at his edges. His flaky skin crunched under her touch, her sweat giving his dry texture an odd slippery feel. The Pineco stared up at his trainer from her arms, a layer of inquisitiveness painted over his gaze. Yet Maltbie's eyes were not quivering at the sight of the boat or her fellow students. In fact, her face was quite unperturbed from the relaxed frown she had been wearing since she left her house. She had seemed more serious in the past few days since the capture of her Pineco. Four Corners remembered past that short time to several occasions when he would watch the girl from the trees over her lonely picnics in the woods, smiling as she fed bits of peanut butter sandwiches to the squirming Venipedes who were brave enough to approach her. But now, going towards an unfamiliar silver boat with a suitcase in tow, she seemed very determined.
"Oh, good, Ms. Pritchard, you're here," a winded Ms. Van Buren said with a handkerchief half-pressed onto her mouth and nose.
"My author wasn't intending on having me be late, apparently." Maltbie said, defaulting on her casual disregarding tone.
"Are we standing out here for a good reason?" Maltbie said, shifting her body suddenly towards the teacher in a way that almost suggested she was ready to pounce on the poor middle-aged woman.
"Yes, we're just waiting for that Phillips boy. Do relax," Ms. Van Buren quietly sniffled to herself as she looked back towards Virbank, hoping to spot a young boy dashing towards the boat gathering rust in the smelly harbor. Maltbie let out a small sigh and looked at the ground as if a way to pass the time would be suggested down there. After a few minutes of enjoyed silence, Maltbie suddenly tossed her suitcase onto the ground with a disruptive clunk - receiving a few glares from the other students waiting with her and nearly giving Ms. Van Buren cardiac arrest. The girl plopped herself and her over-sized pinecone onto the suitcase in a sitting position. Letting her mind wander, Maltbie thought of what she'd like to eat first at the new region, and what kinds of restaurants they had there. Though, despite her efforts, food became one of the least interesting topics she could imagine. There's not much
think about if you have no basis on the topic, after all. The sounds of lapping waves formed a glaze over her attention and several minutes passed before her thoughts became too incomprehensible to care about.
?" she yelled at the boat, promptly confusing her travelmates and the man inside who would soon steer them. "I mean,
would fuel this stupid rant, so can we please just cut the introduction and get to the meat of the story already?"
Almost overlapping her last word, the voice of a boy broke through behind them. Maltbie turned around to see a short teenaged boy with a silly haircut running towards them with a rolling suitcase barely keeping up to his speed. She sighed through her nose and rolled her eyes, resenting how much time she had wasted here.
![Stars of Sinnoh [OOC] [T]](https://40.media.tumblr.com/906e970ad3086906621626e4dee77137/tumblr_mfb34dVY1K1rj9zh8o1_500.jpg "Stars of Sinnoh [OOC] [T]")
![Stars of Sinnoh [OOC] [T]](https://pldh.net/media/dreamworld/204.png "Stars of Sinnoh [OOC] [T]")
