Derrière Drake, quelques pas sont venus lentement de l'ombre, et une voix plus tranquille a dit, "...Je ne crains aucun mal, car tu es avec moi; ta verge et ton bâton, ils me consolent."
Abel se tenait à côté de Drake au-dessus des croix avec un regard terne et déspiritueux dans ses yeux. Le jeune garçon a mis ses mains dans les poches de son jean alors qu'il traçait les fleurs avec ses yeux et s'est souvenu de ceux que les oubliés avaient perdus lors de la dernière bagarre. Cela a blessé Abel, qu'après la mort de tant d'adultes, les gens pouvaient encore se livrer à une violence insensée et recourir à la petite guerre. L'attaque des Scorps n'a pas été provoquée, et bien qu'ils aient leurs raisons, Abel ne pouvait pas justifier leurs actions. Le soleil était bas à l'horizon, et la plupart des gens qui assistaient aux funérailles étaient déjà partis. Les seules personnes qui restaient étaient des personnes qui étaient particulièrement proches du défunt, des personnes qui s'accrochaient à ces souvenirs qui, tout aussi bien, auraient pu glisser dans les doigts des autres. Abel ne s'inscrivait pas bien dans cette catégorie, mais les morts étaient assez proches d'Abel pour qu'il traîne autour.
Abel ne pouvait jamais s'empêcher de pleurer face à une terrible tragédie. Vidéos émotionnelles sur le 11 septembre, chansons chantées sur l'aide humanitaire, hymnes incroyablement spirituels qui s'étendaient peut-être au-delà de la religion, tous tiraient à ses cordes de cœur facilement. Quoi qu'il en soit, quel que soit le poids, Abel n'a jamais abandonné. Pour la vie de lui, il n'arrivait pas à le comprendre. Il s'accroche à tout espoir qu'il puisse sauver. Il a essayé de rester fort, et Abel l'a fait pour d'autres personnes même s'il souffrait profondément à l'intérieur. Son empathie naturelle l'a conduit à rester près des tombes et à se tenir près de Drake. S'il n'avait pas pris soin d'aucune de ces choses, Abel n'aurait peut-être jamais dérangé. Mais il est resté, et il s'est lamenté. Il n'y avait rien d'autre à faire ou à dire à ce sujet.
Name: Abel Levi Dunst
Age: 17
Faction: The Forgotten
Appearance:

Personality: Optimistic, skeptical. A strong follower of Nietzsche's philosophy and of liberalism and also a hopeless romantic. Sentimental. Borderline depressive, outwardly positive, attentive, and attention loving. Easily empathizes and sympathizes with other people. Also enjoys social contact and affection.
Backstory:
A lone, maroon Kia Spectra zipped down the I-35 thoroughfare, vacant except for a few cars wrecked or damaged on the shoulder of the road. The driver's gloved hands were steady on the wheel, and his feet were like lead on the gas pedal. He tore his eyes from the road to snag a glance at his cargo. A leather-bound journal sat in the passenger seat on top of some other books, the works of Nietzsche, the entire Hunger Games trilogy, Utilitarianism by John Stuart Mill, and Hero by Perry Moore among the pile, and a small, black suitcase occupied the backseat next to a blue, plastic tub. The driver eyed the suitcase in his rear-view mirror for a long while before he noticed something green out of the corner of his blue-gray eyes and, in one jerky motion, swerved the car back on the right path. He barely had a chance to glimpse the sign he nearly slammed into and calculated something on the top of his head.
"Minneapolis. One more hour," the driver sighed, fixing his hands on the wheel and his steely glare on the road.
Abel Dunst's trek to the North began in a quiet Texas suburb. The year was 2016, and the United States was set to vote for a new president in November. Abel would have been a freshman in high school by then. But fate had other plans. When he lost his parents, Abel became lost and depressed. He had no reason to continue living after the disease took them. They gave him a purpose. He lived to make them and his friends happy, carry the family name, succeed in his life, and reach the goals of their collective efforts. Without them, without the society that had demanded that he do so, Abel gave up all structure and desire, yet still he could never commit suicide. He didn't have the strength or nerve to end his own life. Abel remained for whatever reason no matter how much it hurt, even when everything fell apart.
That was two years ago. Abel had spent the rest of 2016 and most of 2017 in his home state. He joined a local gang with his friends and neighbors, but their policy of mercy and compassion fell to violence and madness as things grew worse and times became desperate. Conservative extremists, terrorist thugs, and sadistic rich kids took control of territories in the suburbs in bloody turf wars. The fear, bloodshed, and delusion they inspired caused so much madness and made Abel's situation so much worse. He protected his friends and fellow gang members as best he could, and his group did what it could to help those most in need. Those goals filled the gaps Abel's parents left and gave Abel's life a renewed purpose.
What tenuous stability they had for that short year obviously did not last forever. Abel helplessly watched as more kids died in what their enemies called "holy" crusades and "righteous" battles, and he struggled to keep his friends safe. When they were at the end of their rope, Abel made a decision with the hopes of helping his friends escape. One enemy faction chased him, thinking he had his friends and other crucial members of the group in tow. Secretly, Abel sent his friends off in a separate vehicle headed in a different direction while he took his personal possessions with him in his mom's dented 2008 Kia and drove north. They gave up, but Abel continued until he had less than half a gallon.
The car's tank took him to Oklahoma where he learned from another local group to siphon gas and refilled the car. They begged for him to stay, and Abel did. He lived with them for half a year, and together they expanded their turf and piled more resources. That was around the time when Abel began taking new books into his collection. When they started asking Abel more pressing questions, though, Abel became stressed. They developed a certain lunacy as they tried to pry into his personal business. They watched his interactions. Their leader in particular preached homophobia and called for the group members to watch suspicious persons closer. That included Abel. He made his plans to leave in the dead of night, and when everyone was sleeping under his watch, Abel snuck off and floored the gas pedal into the horizon.
Abel spent the next year a drifter. He floated from town to town in his Kia. He stole gas, he stored nonperishable food in his trunk, he collected more books. He did what he could to make ends meet, and he continued to write in his journals. He made sloppy calendars in them, and he wrote many stories and diary entries to pass the time when he was sleeping in his car somewhere on high alert. Most of all, Abel made sure nobody stole from him. He kept a knife at his side as he slept, and he threatened to kill or maim whoever dared to take what was his. Whether at the request of others or by his own choice, Abel joined strong groups who would protect his property and him and underdog groups who would request his aid. For what he did and who he was, Abel earned himself several nicknames and titles, like "Scribe," "Texas Guy," "Wanderer," "The Lone Ranger."
A while after he left Minneapolis, Abel came across the rural town of Kano. He cautiously entered the pawn shop claimed by the Forgotten, and they moved to tentatively accept him as one of their own. He read to them the books he collected, even getting some of the ones they were less fond of, but he neglected to share his story. Nonetheless, they were more tolerant of his sexuality and came to trust Abel more, and Abel enjoyed the hospitality and acceptance they offered him as an outsider both to Kano and society. He chose to stay with them as long as possible, even if by some irony he'd been less open about things with them. For worse or for better, Abel Levi Dunst, who wanted to preserve old knowledge into the future and establish order in the land, became one of the Forgotten.
Other:
Broad range of knowledge, high intellect.
Eccentric and impulsive.
Usually carries a knife or a homemade bow.
Book collector.
Some less obvious knowledge about survival.
Good speaker and writer.