Allen Walker was a strange, confusing woman, Howard Link thought. To the casual viewer, there wasn't anything about her, besides her appearance, that made her so unusual. Link had thought so too, at first. Then he started noticing the little quirks she had, the ones that no one else registered or picked up on. The most frustrating part, though, was that every single time he thought he had figured her out, Allen always did something out of left field that threw off all his expectations of her.
It was the journals that first notified Link that something was off about his ward. Allen had over fifteen of them stored beneath her bed, from locked diaries to the cheap journals you could buy anywhere. All of them were filled with her thick, messy script. The inner pages had no rhyme or reason to subject matter or order, but still gave off a feeling of organization. She wrote about everything, from daily events to her favorite poets to sheet music.
Once, Allen had forgotten to pack her latest journal for a mission. She had sulked until, fed up with her childishness, Link hunted down a pad of paper and a pen. The blanchette had enthusiastically thanked him, and had been happy, but quiet, the rest of the train ride. By the end of the mission two days later, over seventeen pages had been filled, front to back.
By four months after he became Allen's handler, Link was no closer to understanding the mystery that was Allen than the day he started. If it wasn't the journals that made him uneasy, Allen's confusing habits definitely did.
Whenever it rained more than a sprinkle but less than a downpour, he would usually find Allen outside in the rain, with no shoes or umbrella. She'd just stand there in the rain, her head tilted to the sky and her eyes shut. Sometimes, she would sing quietly to herself, her voice clear and soft. Others, she'd recite poetry from memory alone.
The first time Allen did this after she became Link's ward, the blond had spent over an hour frantically searching for her. He only found her when she came inside. Her hair and clothes had been plastered to her form, and a happy smile had graced her lips. Link had chewed her out for running off, and had been stunned to know that all she had done was stand outside in the rain.
As for an explanation for why she was outside, Allen had simply said, "I feel at peace in the rain."
As time went by, Link grew used to his ward's quirky habits, but was always surprised when faced with a new one.
It had been eight months since Link had entered Allen's life, and everyday, he was able to understand his ward better. But no matter how close he became, there were things about Allen that no one outside of Allen herself knew.
The biggest one was Allen's past. Prior to joining the Black Order, Allen's past was a mystery, even her years with Cross. She wasn't exactly eager to tell anyone.
By simply observing her behavior, Link could tell that it hadn't been good. It was supported by the presence of multiple scars on her back, long predating becoming an exorcist. She was just too comfortable when they were traveling in seedier regions, and she spoke to the locals like she was one of them. While part of this could be accredited to Cross, it was still strange in it of itself. Even though she had mentioned being a clown when she was younger, Allen avoided any and all circuses like the plague. Link had once asked her about it.
"Why are you so uncomfortable around circuses?" Link asked. His words were met with cold steel eyes where her kind silver normally were.
"...That's none of your concern." Allen said finally, her words cool. Link nodded.
"I understand, but in order to properly carry out my duties, I need to know-!" He was cut off by Allen jumping to her feet and glaring at him.
"I said drop it!" Allen snarled. Her gaze softened when she realized her words. She fell back into her seat with a sheepish expression.
"S-sorry." She mumbled.
Any more attempts to discuss it were met with cold apathy, and on the rare occasion, even hostility.
When Allen was arrested, the journals went into evidence storage, and any chance of learning more about her was lost. Fate, it seemed, had deemed her to be an enigma for the rest of her days. And yet, Link knew that was exactly how Allen wanted it.
After all, no one understood the mind of Walker better than Allen herself.