(no subject)
CHARACTER INFORMATION
NAME: Allen Walker
CANON: D.Gray-Man
CANON REFERENCE: Allen Walker's entry on the DGM wikia.
AGE: 16 years old
GENDER: Male
YEAR IN SCHOOL: HS1
ENROLLMENT: Sponsorship. See AU History for details.
APPEARANCE: Allen's white hair is often kept somewhat short, with a ragged fringe across his brow parted at one side, but, as evidenced by the silvery-blue of his eyes, he is not afflicted with albinism. He runs along the shorter end of middling height, at 5'8" and possesses a slender, if wiry build, half thanks to an active lifestyle and a voracious metabolism to match.
A jagged scar runs down the left side of his face - the result of the same car accident that took the life of his father - though the pentacle carved on his forehead just above it was a more recent addition. His left arm, starting just below the shoulder, is a mess of devastated tissue, the color of old blood and rippled as with a burn scar. A defect during the healing process of whatever accident caused this disfigurement has turned the fingernails of that hand black, which he keeps hidden by wearing long sleeves and gloves at every opportunity. Otherwise, he has the appearance of a healthy young teenager, smiling more often than not.
PERSONALITY:
Some people are afforded uncomplicated lives.
Allen Walker has never been one of them, but all considered, he turned out alright. Kind-hearted and gregarious, he possesses a yearning to connect with and befriend his peers, as well as a strong sense of (some might say naive and simple) justice, the sort of boy who would step in the way of a bully's fist for the sake of a stranger-- and accompany him or her in detention afterward. Outwardly an unflinching optimist, he seems direct and too earnest and naive for the more worldly and jaded, but his particular brand of optimism is an intentional regard for the silver lining while well-aware of the storm clouds directly overhead. He isn't blind to the more unpleasant aspects of the world, having experienced hardship first-hand, he deliberately chooses to focus on, encourage, and reach for the better parts, to improve his and others' lives.
An excess of determination keeps him going through thick and thin, living by his father's last request. To never give up. To keep walking. No matter what happens, no matter what gets in his way, for the sake of his father's memory, he won't let himself be defeated by trials and difficulty.
Considering what he's been through, most might fold, shut out anyone who might possibly hurt them and withdraw into themselves, or lash out in anger at their surroundings or own selves. Some might become emotionally unstable or unruly. Allen went in the opposite direction; Allen feels with an intensity and depth that is remarkable in a case like his, and so is his eagerness to engage others in friendship, investing of himself heavily in the well-being of those around him. But he's no saint -- In spite of his often polite manner, he is just as capable as any hot-headed teenager to fly off the handle, raise his voice, and start throwing punches when the right buttons get pushed (especially when something leaves his pride bruised or tarnished). This works on the other side of the same coin, as well -- he'll likely earn himself his fair share of teasing at some point for being a guy unafraid to cry.
The constant moving, the frequent uprooting of his life had made him learn to be adaptable. In order to make his own adjustments easier, Allen became a 'performer', a kind of social chameleon, often emulating the manner of his peers, or modifying his behavior to produce more favorable results when in an unfamiliar situation. With his most recent adoption by the narcissistic, famously vain (and some would say grossly negligent) Cross Marian, his life became like a modern-day Oliver Twist, with the red-haired, womanizing con-man something of an Artful Dodger, swindling the wealthy of their beautiful wives (and more often than not, their bank account numbers) before quickly moving on to another part of the globe. But as much as he'd deny it, Allen himself acquired a number of Cross' own less savory traits, capable of a little quick-talk and manipulation, himself. These traits, when they emerge (such as blackmailing a rival or swindling an upperclassman at a game of cards), are chalked up as Allen's (often humorously demonstrated) 'Dark Side'.
In the current chapter of his life, Allen has taken up the manner of the polite son of a distant but well-to-do father, masking his Yorkshire accent in favor of a more 'proper' accent people come to expect of British elite. Although it takes a little prompting, the resentment (and some healthy sense of fear) he harbors for his absentee guardian is readily apparent, and around those who enter into his confidence, he relaxes, demonstrating more of the rough and tumble casualness with which he was raised.
However, he's still a boy at a crossroads, so accustomed to having to quickly adapt to new developments that he hasn't had time to really think about where he was going, where he belongs, what he wants to do with himself. He'll mature with time, whether he decides to find his place, or if he fails to set down roots when he can and gets swept along the currents of the ever-changing events of his life.
COMPUTER APTITUDE: He can use it for assignments and basic posting on the intranet, but anything more complex than that? Not a chance. He just isn't tech-savvy.
AU HISTORY:
Where there are cities, there are the poor, the homeless and the lawless.
His earliest memories were unpleasant, lacking warmth. Unable to remember the names or faces of his birth parents, the boy scrounged for food in the rubbish bins behind restaurants and hotels. Life on the streets is hard for anyone, and in the dingy alleyways of London, the basic difficulty of survival could make people cruel. Nameless, friendless, his first experience with warmth and kindness came from an eccentric and destitute street performer named Mana Walker. It didn't matter to him that the man wasn't playing with a full deck of cards (which was to say, he was a little mad), or the fact that he'd mistaken the boy, at first, for what he could only gather as a pet dog he once used to own. He gave him a name and a place to belong, and, the only person in the world to show him any love at all, became his father.
They wandered together for years, taking refuge in shelters and abandoned buildings, sometimes in churches during the coldest months. He taught the young Allen a few magic tricks to earn a few coins for food, and although they hadn't much, Allen felt happy.
The Accident turned his life upside-down. For all that London was a fairly orderly city as far as a metropolis went, there was still the presence of a criminal underworld. Whether Mana had angered someone powerful or had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't matter; a dark vehicle struck him down one day. Allen didn't escape unscathed, either -- trapped under some flying debris following the accident, one arm got drenched with burning gasoline and was horribly disfigured, a wicked scar down the left side of his face was from a shard of hot metal. The shock of the experience left his hair white for the remainder of his life.
He was a mere three feet from where his father lay dying, and despite the crackling flames and approaching sirens, he still managed to hear his last words: Don't give up. Don't stop, keep walking.
Mana's remains were taken away to be buried in a public lot. Allen was taken to a hospital, and, declared an orphan, was placed in foster care.
It wasn't terrible.
Sometimes, he found himself in the care of decent people, good, hard-working people who fell on hard times and had to give him away again just to make ends meet. Sometimes they weren't so nice. Sometimes, it wasn't even the foster parents at all, but one of their children or another relative who took actions that brought him right back to the system again. One teenaged son, in a fit of jealous pique and encouraged by the wrong sort of crowd, carved a pentacle into Allen's forehead. It wasn't like he was a bad person, just mixed up with the wrong crowd, possessed of an excess of frustration and no outlet.
Allen broke a broom handle over the offending party's back when he recovered, and was promptly sent to another family. Allen rarely spent more than a few months in one place, which wasn't really a source of sadness so much as something he started to accept as a matter of fact. Stability was afforded other people; he would learn to adapt, to pattern his behavior after what seemed to achieve better results. He didn't expect to live in one place with one family for long, but that was no reason to spend those weeks or months miserable.
It was easier that way -- and, more honestly, he craved that belonging and companionship he once had with Mana.
Then he met Cross Marian.
He exuded confidence and strength, with a sort of robber baron's carriage, half roguish, debonair ne'er-do-well, half regal playboy. Not truly wealthy, he was a professional con-man, using his wit, charm, and various tricks of the trade to swindle the rich of their beautiful wives and girlfriends, as well as their money. Living extravagantly, he had come into something of a tight spot and needed a little hired help -- unfortunately, most of his available contacts were too easily recognized. He needed to obtain something and he was short on time.
Then he spotted a boy entertaining himself with coin tricks, waiting for a bus.
"You'll do," he had said, and hauled Allen off. It was one way out of the foster care system, but technically, one could have called it a kidnapping. The next three years were spent in an admittedly exciting manner, though Allen found the world-traveling tiresome when they were almost always on the run from another of Cross' jilted exes or some kind of hitman hoping to recoup their client's financial losses. Allen turned out to be an adequate (if unwilling) accomplice, frequently forced to assist because the alternative was getting tossed to the police as a skapegoat. Not too chuffed with the idea of getting put back into the system, Allen often had no choice but to agree.
More recently, Cross has encountered the sort of trouble that can't be solved by bedding a beautiful woman or threatening to throw Allen in front of it; he's sent Allen away to Reims to keep him out of his hair (on the dollar of one of his girlfriends, of course) until things blow over (or he runs out of money). Allen has come into this under the impression that this will be like everything else -- just another temporary pit stop he'll be putting behind him in another handful of weeks.
NAME: Allen Walker
CANON: D.Gray-Man
CANON REFERENCE: Allen Walker's entry on the DGM wikia.
AGE: 16 years old
GENDER: Male
YEAR IN SCHOOL: HS1
ENROLLMENT: Sponsorship. See AU History for details.
APPEARANCE: Allen's white hair is often kept somewhat short, with a ragged fringe across his brow parted at one side, but, as evidenced by the silvery-blue of his eyes, he is not afflicted with albinism. He runs along the shorter end of middling height, at 5'8" and possesses a slender, if wiry build, half thanks to an active lifestyle and a voracious metabolism to match.
A jagged scar runs down the left side of his face - the result of the same car accident that took the life of his father - though the pentacle carved on his forehead just above it was a more recent addition. His left arm, starting just below the shoulder, is a mess of devastated tissue, the color of old blood and rippled as with a burn scar. A defect during the healing process of whatever accident caused this disfigurement has turned the fingernails of that hand black, which he keeps hidden by wearing long sleeves and gloves at every opportunity. Otherwise, he has the appearance of a healthy young teenager, smiling more often than not.
PERSONALITY:
Some people are afforded uncomplicated lives.
Allen Walker has never been one of them, but all considered, he turned out alright. Kind-hearted and gregarious, he possesses a yearning to connect with and befriend his peers, as well as a strong sense of (some might say naive and simple) justice, the sort of boy who would step in the way of a bully's fist for the sake of a stranger-- and accompany him or her in detention afterward. Outwardly an unflinching optimist, he seems direct and too earnest and naive for the more worldly and jaded, but his particular brand of optimism is an intentional regard for the silver lining while well-aware of the storm clouds directly overhead. He isn't blind to the more unpleasant aspects of the world, having experienced hardship first-hand, he deliberately chooses to focus on, encourage, and reach for the better parts, to improve his and others' lives.
An excess of determination keeps him going through thick and thin, living by his father's last request. To never give up. To keep walking. No matter what happens, no matter what gets in his way, for the sake of his father's memory, he won't let himself be defeated by trials and difficulty.
Considering what he's been through, most might fold, shut out anyone who might possibly hurt them and withdraw into themselves, or lash out in anger at their surroundings or own selves. Some might become emotionally unstable or unruly. Allen went in the opposite direction; Allen feels with an intensity and depth that is remarkable in a case like his, and so is his eagerness to engage others in friendship, investing of himself heavily in the well-being of those around him. But he's no saint -- In spite of his often polite manner, he is just as capable as any hot-headed teenager to fly off the handle, raise his voice, and start throwing punches when the right buttons get pushed (especially when something leaves his pride bruised or tarnished). This works on the other side of the same coin, as well -- he'll likely earn himself his fair share of teasing at some point for being a guy unafraid to cry.
The constant moving, the frequent uprooting of his life had made him learn to be adaptable. In order to make his own adjustments easier, Allen became a 'performer', a kind of social chameleon, often emulating the manner of his peers, or modifying his behavior to produce more favorable results when in an unfamiliar situation. With his most recent adoption by the narcissistic, famously vain (and some would say grossly negligent) Cross Marian, his life became like a modern-day Oliver Twist, with the red-haired, womanizing con-man something of an Artful Dodger, swindling the wealthy of their beautiful wives (and more often than not, their bank account numbers) before quickly moving on to another part of the globe. But as much as he'd deny it, Allen himself acquired a number of Cross' own less savory traits, capable of a little quick-talk and manipulation, himself. These traits, when they emerge (such as blackmailing a rival or swindling an upperclassman at a game of cards), are chalked up as Allen's (often humorously demonstrated) 'Dark Side'.
In the current chapter of his life, Allen has taken up the manner of the polite son of a distant but well-to-do father, masking his Yorkshire accent in favor of a more 'proper' accent people come to expect of British elite. Although it takes a little prompting, the resentment (and some healthy sense of fear) he harbors for his absentee guardian is readily apparent, and around those who enter into his confidence, he relaxes, demonstrating more of the rough and tumble casualness with which he was raised.
However, he's still a boy at a crossroads, so accustomed to having to quickly adapt to new developments that he hasn't had time to really think about where he was going, where he belongs, what he wants to do with himself. He'll mature with time, whether he decides to find his place, or if he fails to set down roots when he can and gets swept along the currents of the ever-changing events of his life.
COMPUTER APTITUDE: He can use it for assignments and basic posting on the intranet, but anything more complex than that? Not a chance. He just isn't tech-savvy.
AU HISTORY:
Where there are cities, there are the poor, the homeless and the lawless.
His earliest memories were unpleasant, lacking warmth. Unable to remember the names or faces of his birth parents, the boy scrounged for food in the rubbish bins behind restaurants and hotels. Life on the streets is hard for anyone, and in the dingy alleyways of London, the basic difficulty of survival could make people cruel. Nameless, friendless, his first experience with warmth and kindness came from an eccentric and destitute street performer named Mana Walker. It didn't matter to him that the man wasn't playing with a full deck of cards (which was to say, he was a little mad), or the fact that he'd mistaken the boy, at first, for what he could only gather as a pet dog he once used to own. He gave him a name and a place to belong, and, the only person in the world to show him any love at all, became his father.
They wandered together for years, taking refuge in shelters and abandoned buildings, sometimes in churches during the coldest months. He taught the young Allen a few magic tricks to earn a few coins for food, and although they hadn't much, Allen felt happy.
The Accident turned his life upside-down. For all that London was a fairly orderly city as far as a metropolis went, there was still the presence of a criminal underworld. Whether Mana had angered someone powerful or had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't matter; a dark vehicle struck him down one day. Allen didn't escape unscathed, either -- trapped under some flying debris following the accident, one arm got drenched with burning gasoline and was horribly disfigured, a wicked scar down the left side of his face was from a shard of hot metal. The shock of the experience left his hair white for the remainder of his life.
He was a mere three feet from where his father lay dying, and despite the crackling flames and approaching sirens, he still managed to hear his last words: Don't give up. Don't stop, keep walking.
Mana's remains were taken away to be buried in a public lot. Allen was taken to a hospital, and, declared an orphan, was placed in foster care.
It wasn't terrible.
Sometimes, he found himself in the care of decent people, good, hard-working people who fell on hard times and had to give him away again just to make ends meet. Sometimes they weren't so nice. Sometimes, it wasn't even the foster parents at all, but one of their children or another relative who took actions that brought him right back to the system again. One teenaged son, in a fit of jealous pique and encouraged by the wrong sort of crowd, carved a pentacle into Allen's forehead. It wasn't like he was a bad person, just mixed up with the wrong crowd, possessed of an excess of frustration and no outlet.
Allen broke a broom handle over the offending party's back when he recovered, and was promptly sent to another family. Allen rarely spent more than a few months in one place, which wasn't really a source of sadness so much as something he started to accept as a matter of fact. Stability was afforded other people; he would learn to adapt, to pattern his behavior after what seemed to achieve better results. He didn't expect to live in one place with one family for long, but that was no reason to spend those weeks or months miserable.
It was easier that way -- and, more honestly, he craved that belonging and companionship he once had with Mana.
Then he met Cross Marian.
He exuded confidence and strength, with a sort of robber baron's carriage, half roguish, debonair ne'er-do-well, half regal playboy. Not truly wealthy, he was a professional con-man, using his wit, charm, and various tricks of the trade to swindle the rich of their beautiful wives and girlfriends, as well as their money. Living extravagantly, he had come into something of a tight spot and needed a little hired help -- unfortunately, most of his available contacts were too easily recognized. He needed to obtain something and he was short on time.
Then he spotted a boy entertaining himself with coin tricks, waiting for a bus.
"You'll do," he had said, and hauled Allen off. It was one way out of the foster care system, but technically, one could have called it a kidnapping. The next three years were spent in an admittedly exciting manner, though Allen found the world-traveling tiresome when they were almost always on the run from another of Cross' jilted exes or some kind of hitman hoping to recoup their client's financial losses. Allen turned out to be an adequate (if unwilling) accomplice, frequently forced to assist because the alternative was getting tossed to the police as a skapegoat. Not too chuffed with the idea of getting put back into the system, Allen often had no choice but to agree.
More recently, Cross has encountered the sort of trouble that can't be solved by bedding a beautiful woman or threatening to throw Allen in front of it; he's sent Allen away to Reims to keep him out of his hair (on the dollar of one of his girlfriends, of course) until things blow over (or he runs out of money). Allen has come into this under the impression that this will be like everything else -- just another temporary pit stop he'll be putting behind him in another handful of weeks.