Marshal Walker
- Status:
- Muggle-born
- Birthday:
- 10 Dec 2009
- Nationality:
- English
- Residence:
- Westminister, England
- Function:
- Second year, Gryffindor
- Wand:
- 26,4 cm cherry wood and dragon heartstring
Physical Description:
Marshal has golden curls that curl around his ears and are cut as bangs around his eyebrows. He has a fairly defined jawline, and soft pink lips, fading into his pale skin. He often wears things like sweater vests, collared shirts, big sweaters, and a signature pair of high-top red converse. He has fairly feminine features, with long eyelashes and pretty green eyes.
Personality:
He's pretty quiet, although not because he doesn't like to talk to people, just because he's never been a very chatty or out-there person. He stands his ground in the face of an argument or in a place of vulnerability, and he knows how to take a punch. Upon getting to know him, you'll find he's pretty similar to his exterior personality, with a certain air of reclusive and secretive energy.
Backstory:
He was raised by his mom in Westminster, and had a fairly calm life. By calm, that doesn't mean comfortable, more just not very loud and exciting. His mother was often struggling with money, and although they hadn't fallen into poverty, his mom still had to be out of the house quite, so he didn't often get a lot of family time. He has a younger sister around the age of two, which he's often found taking care of while his mom is out of the house.
First Instance with Magic:
Marshal had been in school for his first instance of magic, studying alone in an empty classroom. He had been behind on a bit of science homework, so he had to stay back for a bit whilst recess proceeded. His science teacher, out of the classroom because he had to use the restroom, had informed him that all he had left to do was a make up experiment. Unfortunately, he hadn't told Marshal where the correct items were to go through with the assignment was, so he had to find them himself. Reaching for the glass beaker atop the burner, he momentarily forgot the mit to protect his hands. One hand slipping on a loose pencil, his opposite reaching hand dove downwards, brushing the lit flame. Surprisingly, he didn't feel a thing other than an icy shiver. Unbeknownst to Marshal, he had just had his first "brush" with magic.
Marshal has golden curls that curl around his ears and are cut as bangs around his eyebrows. He has a fairly defined jawline, and soft pink lips, fading into his pale skin. He often wears things like sweater vests, collared shirts, big sweaters, and a signature pair of high-top red converse. He has fairly feminine features, with long eyelashes and pretty green eyes.
Personality:
He's pretty quiet, although not because he doesn't like to talk to people, just because he's never been a very chatty or out-there person. He stands his ground in the face of an argument or in a place of vulnerability, and he knows how to take a punch. Upon getting to know him, you'll find he's pretty similar to his exterior personality, with a certain air of reclusive and secretive energy.
Backstory:
He was raised by his mom in Westminster, and had a fairly calm life. By calm, that doesn't mean comfortable, more just not very loud and exciting. His mother was often struggling with money, and although they hadn't fallen into poverty, his mom still had to be out of the house quite, so he didn't often get a lot of family time. He has a younger sister around the age of two, which he's often found taking care of while his mom is out of the house.
First Instance with Magic:
Marshal had been in school for his first instance of magic, studying alone in an empty classroom. He had been behind on a bit of science homework, so he had to stay back for a bit whilst recess proceeded. His science teacher, out of the classroom because he had to use the restroom, had informed him that all he had left to do was a make up experiment. Unfortunately, he hadn't told Marshal where the correct items were to go through with the assignment was, so he had to find them himself. Reaching for the glass beaker atop the burner, he momentarily forgot the mit to protect his hands. One hand slipping on a loose pencil, his opposite reaching hand dove downwards, brushing the lit flame. Surprisingly, he didn't feel a thing other than an icy shiver. Unbeknownst to Marshal, he had just had his first "brush" with magic.