About “The Abandons” in a few words:

The Abandons roams into the wild world of Western drama set in the 1850s Washington Territory, where fierce women and rugged families clash over land, legacy, and survival. Fiona Nolan leads a found family of orphans and outcasts trying to protect their home, while Constance Van Ness and her powerful clan want that land (and its riches) for themselves. Add forbidden romance, explosive secrets, and frontier justice, and you’ve got one heck of a showdown.

Meet the characters from The Abandons

Fiona Nolan

Okay, Fiona is the kind of fierce I fangirl over — scrappy, stubborn, and annoyingly competent, like she could MacGyver a raft out of a teapot and three shoelaces. She’s got this soft spot for stray animals and ghost stories (actually carries a dented pocketknife and a packet of tea in the same pocket — practical and oddly cozy?), and honestly she remembers faces better than names which makes her both comforting and slightly terrifying. She’s the one who runs toward trouble while muttering a list of contingencies under her breath, then forgets one of them because she saw something shiny — in other words, human, messy, heroic. Also sometimes she’ll be quietly brutal in a negotiation and then apologize with muffins, so yeah, complicated but lovable.

Constance Van Ness

Constance is the polished, quietly poisonous matriarch who runs the household like a clock that occasionally tells fortunes — cold brass and hidden gears, you know? She collects porcelain birds and grudges with equal intensity, and there’s this tiny, surprising thing where she hums lullabies when she thinks no one’s listening (suddenly tender, then back to icicles). She’s full of rules and back-alley kindnesses delivered in single, perfectly timed acts, and she’ll crush you with a look that apparently also doubles as a compliment if you’re the right kind of stubborn. Definitely intimidating, but she keeps a secret drawer of ridiculous postcards which makes me love her in tiny, embarrassing ways.

Elias Teller

Elias is the broody brain of the group — bookish, a little greasy-haired in a poetic way, and annoyingly right about everything until he’s not, which of course happens in the most dramatic fashion. He spends a lot of time in attics fixing clocks or writing letters he never sends, and he has a ridiculous habit of talking to inanimate objects (plants, doorknobs, the odd teacup) like they’ve got opinions — also he’s surprisingly tender with children and stray dogs, which softens the whole “tragic genius” vibe. He’s got this uncanny ability to remember obscure facts that will either save the day or start an argument at dinner; it’s kind of his superpower and his curse. And yes, he claims to hate parties but will somehow be the last one there reorganizing the snacks.

Dahlia Teller

Dahlia is delightfully eerie — the witchy older sibling who wears too much perfume and knows exactly which secrets to leave alone, which is somehow worse than spilling them. She floats through rooms like a rumor and is all sharp smiles and softer threats, and sometimes she’ll bake cookies for you and then ask about your mortality, which is a mood. She’s fiercely protective in a very quiet, sometimes morally ambiguous way, and she collects talismans that may or may not be cursed (depends on the weather, probably). Also, she insists on wearing gloves even in summer and then loses them in the most inconvenient places, which baffles me endlessly.

Trisha Van Ness

Trisha is the spark plug, the younger Van Ness who talks too fast, laughs too loud, and gets in trouble with a grin like it’s a hobby. She’s equal parts activist and prankster, dresses like she raided three eras and made it fashion, and has an insane memory for lyrics and bus routes but will forget where she put her keys (keys, keys, keys — it’s a theme). She’s fiercely loyal, will start a revolution at brunch, and then buy everyone pastries as penance; also, she keeps a jar labeled “Emergency Sweets” like it’s a survival kit and honestly, same. She’s messy, brilliant, and will probably steal your map and leave you a poem instead.

Garret Van Ness

Garret is the charming rogue with a moral compass that occasionally needs recalibration but is somehow always pointing to “help your family” in the end. He’s the kind of guy who can fix a leaky roof and tell you a ridiculous story about his “glorious” collegiate football career (which may or may not have included a broken eyebrow), and he plays cards like his life depends on it — with dramatic flair and a potato-chip snack in hand. Loyal to a fault, scandal-prone in theory but deeply practical in action, he’s the one who will make a mess of plans and then be the only person actually to pull them off, probably while whistling. Also keeps a ridiculous shrine to old concert tickets in his toolbox; sentimental and chaotic, bless him.