Abel Ross
“Purpose is human. For god I claim. For love I die. For country I serve. For family I cry.”-
Abel Ross
Abel Evans Ross
|{Nickname}|Abaddon the Destroyer. It's actually the name of his cat, a pure black longhair with a penchant for evil. It caught on as a nickname for Abel during some drunken tirade as to his knowledge of the fallen angel and its correlation to the evil entity of his cat. So, people tend to roar it in his presence, especially when he, they, or everyone is drunk. "Abaddon the DESTROYEEER!!!!!!" followed by a rather squinty eyed glare.
Abel's short enough, though, so it's usually the go to. That or Abe, just for the sake of shortening it further.
|{Birth Date}|February 7th, 1989
|{Age}|26
|{Gender}|Male
|{Sexuality}|Gray-A Homoromantic
|{Sexually Active}|Not really
|{Relationship Status}|Single
|{Occupation}|Botanist. Researches in a greenhouse/lab at the Seattle University, mainly for national parks and preservation, especially concerning that of bees.
A P P E A R A N C E
6'0" even with an athletic build that boasts active running, Abel tends to have a closed off appearance with rigid shoulders and a stiff posture. His lithe form tends to alleviate him of an imposing stature, though his presence doesn't do much to disquiet the cold he tends to afflict. A tired expression finds itself overcoming most emotions on Abel's features, outlining his large, blue eyes with dark circles and normally white teeth stained with copious cups of coffee and other caffeinated beverages (Seattle's cafe scene is such a godsend). Of course, not many people have come close to witnessing Abel's teeth in anything but a grimace, snarl, due to his need for intense frowning. Not to say he doesn't smile, it's just a rare kind of blessing. Like a black cat named Abaddon the Destroyer.
|{Clothing Style}|Scarves. Lots of scarves. Second only to Abel's intense tie collection, the winter is heavy with various scarves, woolen and thick and hiding everything from his neck to his lower face. Not only that but a numerous amount of coats, ranging from the heavy pea coat to warm, downy puffer jackets, to an assortment of various jacket and vest combinations. There's absolutely no one who values the warmth of clothing that Abel does and his closet tends to be filled with a collection of sweaters, heavy t-shirts, sweatpants, and layers of jackets, not to mention a lot of thermal underwear. Living in Washington, one often finds themselves with an entire closet dedicated to winter wear.
|{Scars, Tattoos, Piercings}|A tattoo on his collar, to his shoulder, and back that hangs right over his biceps to circle his wrists. Pitch black with long, straight lines and various religious symbols of protection from Norse to Chinese to Hindi following the lines in parallel form. The area near his neck is filled with sharp lines and corners as they encircle his neck and travel down the length of his spine.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
✔ Bugs
✔ Ladybugs
✔ Maple Syrup
✔ Pine Trees (particularly the smell)
✔ Cats
✔ Knick-knacks
✔ Coffee
✔ Fireplaces
✔ Rain
✘ Being Accosted
✘ Solicitors
✘ Taxes
✘ Stupid Questions
✘ Anything too Sweet (aside from maple syrup)
✘ Rosemary Grenadine
✘ Salmon
✘ Snow
|{Hobbies}|Cataloging
Binge Watching
Jogging
Reading
|{Habits}|Repeatedly clenching his fists when nervous.
Looking furious when he's deep in thought.
Scrunching his nose.
Keeps a journal where he takes notes on practically everything.
|{Fears}|☠ Complacency with his work and life ☠
☠ Horse riding ☠
☠ Thunderstorms ☠
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
♦ Caustic ♦ Guarded ♦ Perceptive ♦ Flippant ♦
Weird puts things kindly. If someone wants to come off as polite, they usually describe Abel with, "Dry humor kind of guy," or, "He doesn't really mean it." An introvert, as introverted as they come, Abel exhausts easily in social environments; interacting with strangers is taxing and something he avoids, if at all possible. Possibly why he chose science as a career. Plants don't sap the energy out of people, they're calm, stationary, if a little bit quiet. The same can be said for cats, of which Abel had to have picked the rudest, unbelievably sassiest, and destructive one out of a litter of ten.
A guy like Abel doesn't have many friends outside of his tight knit circle. People he usually meets are often friend of friends. Though, it can be said that achieving that status with Abel is a task in and of itself. That can often be accounted for his lake of tact and caustic manner of interacting with people he doesn't quite know. It's both a defense mechanism and his default mood. Prickly tends to describe the surface of Abel rather effectively. Or any other assortment of synonyms: grumpy, rude, a dick. Catch him in the mornings before his ten cups of coffee and you'll likely find that he'd been nicknamed appropriately. Of course, lonely doesn't seem to adequately portray him. Just because he dislikes people's company doesn't mean he's often without joy in the company of others. It just takes a certain kind of determination to get through to him.
In other words, Abel may have a tongue on him, may bite and spit acid at any turn of conversation, but beneath the lack of filter for crass language and general rudeness sits a deeply faceted man. Passion sets him alight, drives him with focus and perseverance. Stubbornness keeps him going past the point of adrenaline and exhaustion. And a keen eye for practically anything. Abel works in subtleties, a warm mug of hot cocoa on the counter, letting people sleep in whilst he works twice for himself and them, the fact that he doesn't use all the damn hot water. He shows he cares not in words, but in actions, ways that don't leave him vulnerable. Ways in which he can keep his heart on his sleeve without revealing where on it it lays. Abel isn't a man of grand gestures, but a man of little acts, things that tend to be overlooked in the grand scheme, but are almost as important—possibly more so in a way.
Not many people realize they're happy.
Not until they have a reason to look back, away from the pain and the absence they feel at that very moment.
|{Place Of Origin}|Auburn, Alabama.
|{History}|For all intents and purposes, Abel Ross was an only child to a single mother, Elizabeth Marie Ross.
In reality, Abel had various siblings.
And various fathers. Of who, the sole biological father remained absent for the entirety of his life.
Perhaps his mother had a complex. Abandonment issues only revealed when the light of her past shone down upon it. His mother left every single marriage of her own accord. Divorces initiated from her and her alone. She blindsided various men, and a few women, in her moments of duress. She'd even admitted to a marriage counselor that she had self destructive habits.
Before she slept with the marriage counselor in question.
A beginning such as this would expect Abel to come out with resentment, possibly a mother who revealed a terminal illness and pleaded forgiveness. Fortunately, Abel did none such thing; he didn't resent his mother and had nothing to forgive her for. In fact, Abel's relative aversion to strangers reinforced their relationship. Though he met most of her excursions, as he called them, with exasperation, he knew his mother's plight and supported whatever decision she made. After all, people found love in various ways. For Elizabeth her love burned bright, hot, and frequently. For Abel, it simmered and either fizzled out or grew in scope and measure. She had no other child aside from him, for reasons she refused to indulge in, and Abel preferred it that way.
Being a solitary child who moved often from spot to spot across the country—continent, really, since Elizabeth frequented Canada—Abel hadn't a reason to make friends, as they didn't often last. Nor did many people find Abel amicable enough to befriend. It took awhile for Abel to grow out of loneliness, or to even identify and understand it, until he'd hit a spot in his teenage life where Elizabeth staid for longer than she intended. They'd settled down for a few years and thus allowed Abel to flourish in his academics, as well as his social life. To his rather dismal regret, quite a bit of people took to his solemn bitterness like fly to honey. They often quoted his utter misanthropic hatred of the world around him as edgy and goth, of which was a total and utter lie. Abel didn't hate the world, didn't hate people, just preferred privacy and solitude over interaction, yet he refused to correct them. Pride perhaps stopped that and maybe a bit of stubbornness. Mostly it was inevitability.
What Abel lacked was perhaps tragedy. He had an odd family situation, with a mother who avoided commitment as if it burned her, and a father still absent (his mother often described him as an inbred louse. "Of course, he's not a product of incest, honey. It's just a colloquialism."). Abel's life couldn't be described as easy, yet it wasn't fret with hardships. Being intelligent, studious, and solitude awarded him an easy education and an even easier idea for a career. Plants and bugs perhaps spoke to him quite a bit more than people did, especially since constant upheaval of home and hearth made it easier to study and tell the difference between species of trees and flowers and insects. The move to Seattle where the rain made things lush and vibrant despite the overhang of grey seemed a simple choice. Keeping in contact with life long friends a little harder, though the only thing expected of him was a simple trip to North Carolina come winter. Luckily, his mother seemed to have hold up near the ski resort with a group of non-committal, vegan nudists (maybe polyamory would do his mother some good? Hopefully). He'd questioned it, but she waved him off with her brazen lack of any attire.
Of course, a niggling in the back of his mind had urged him to further research his biological father. Maybe hope seems too optimistic for a word to describe Abel's feelings. Dreadful? Inevitable? As long as he doesn't find out he's a cannibal holed up in the boondocks of Alabama. What could be worse?
|{Extra}|Abel knows how to tango and foxtrot, as well as tap dance. He refuses to show anyone, however.
Can name various species of insect and flowers off the top of his head.
Loves the language of flowers and their subtleties.
(My favorite thing about Christmas, and subsequently Abel's favorite thing, because I can, is the Christmas music. But things like Frank Sinatra singing I'll be Home For Christmas, or I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Billie Holiday.)
|{Theme Song}|
