mabel-mott-blog

[mabel-mott-blog]

Would you wake us up from a dream like that?

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE (2018) dir. Mike Flanagan

[mabel-mott-blog]

Nell in 1.01 // Luke in 1.08

[mabel-mott-blog]

1.01 | 1.04

[mabel-mott-blog]

bram-tolliver‌:

* ╱ 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑

●︎ when: may 22nd, 2019 ●︎ where: mott manor ●︎ with: @mabel-mott

abraham worked on the grounds for the past two years and never had seen the woman whom he was sharing a conversation with. then again, was this the truth? brown chestnut colored hues sense familiarity within her fair features and it sends a chill down his spine. someone in the course of his entire existence, bram had seen this woman before but he was unable to place her. if abraham was smart, he’d realize that she favored a woman from his past, the same woman who sent his entire world into a downward spiral. casting an awkward glance throughout the greenhouse, abraham tried searching for answers. the last thing that he wanted to do was insult his employer through the course of his work.

when she said this was her home, abraham looked her square in the eye and refused to blink. How so? If this was her home, then she would have surely seen the woman on these grounds, then again - this home was extravagant and the land even more massive since they acquired his family perch. “the greenhouse is yours; or does it belong to the elder mott?” he spoke, his words concrete and set in stone. questioning a mott was dangerous grounds, abraham though was a demon and shared powers of his own. did they know this about him? no they hadn’t caught onto his true nature and he preferred to keep this a secret for now. otherwise they might learn of his ulterior motives. 

“i’ve walked these grounds for hours upon hours, never once seeing a female such as yourself amongst the rose bushes.” he tacked on, wanting to challenge her some and to learn about where they went from here. “i surely would have noticed you.” bram announced as he took a step forward, setting down his garden shears in the process and extending a hand in the woman’s direction.

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 22nd, 2019 where: mott manor with: @bram-tolliver​

residing in a home such as mott manor has provided mabel mott with many things. first, and most notably, a roof above her head and a sanctuary from the cruelties in the world willing and able to break her down in a way she is unable to properly cope with. second, and arguably the least positive, the looming threat of madness haunting her daily, finally, a location rich with history even she has yet to fully uncover. with that haunting looming presence comes with it a story she has sought to learn in her short twenty-two years of life. from portraits hanging above mantles in rooms she feels she has only stepped foot in once or twice in her lifetime to chests of paperwork and books, journals and records, tomes and grimoires from mott wytches of the past that she hopes to one day understand. the motts, and their manor, carry with them a history richer than the plantation upon which they reside, and one unknowingly haunting them equally so.

it is not surprising to the youngest living mott that this gentleman is surprised by her presence and statement. the vast outcroppings of the manor and its maze-like interior brings with it an air of secrecy. one could spend weeks on the grounds and within its walls and still discover new locations and rooms. surely this man, who seems as familiar with her home as any of the present workers, is reasonable in his inquiry about her identity. “it’s mine,” she assures him, trying to recall the last time her grandmother even stepped foot within the stained glass walls. nowadays the mott matriarch spent most of her time indoors, rarely showing her face to anyone save the housekeeper and her immediate family. “these are all mine,” her words fall from her lips with an air of pride and less like a bratty child staking claim upon a room full of toys. emerald sights glance around at the various plants and flowers with a look of admiration, like a mother fawning over her children. mabel’s voice holds a softness to it that is rare in mott women. 

his words continue and her eyes narrow briefly as she sizes up his intentions. with the numerous manor workers it has become easy for mabel mott to overlook some of the staff. she will offer them smiles in the event their paths cross and she does her best to remain pleasant and welcoming to them. after all, she’s certain the manor would be unable to thrive as it does without their services. still, it has become difficult for the blonde to keep all staff straight in her mind, and this gentleman is one of the less familiar faces. “i don’t spend much time on the grounds, perhaps that is it?” she suggests, offering the man a smile, “mostly i’m here, with them,” again she motions to the plants surrounding her companion. his words strike her in a way she has never felt before, as though a bond is forming between them she’s unable to explain. she doesn’t know his name and yet feels as though in these few moments their paths have crossed and have begun winding around one another.  she eyes him curiously as he approaches and offers his hand, and she takes note of its warmth as she embraces it with her own. “i’m mabel mott, and i must admit...” she pauses for a moment, debating briefly whether her next words are appropriate to say, “i would have noticed you as well.”

[mabel-mott-blog]

elysenight‌:

“They’re going to really like you, I just know it.” 

Elyse had made herself comfortable beside Mabel on one of the pristine couches in the spacious living room of the Phi Phi Omega sorority house. It wasn’t the first time she’d walked an innocent soul into the lion’s den, always interested in recruited new sorority sisters. Mabel, however, was not just a hopeful recruit but a friend; a rarity that she was determined to keep. She was good and reserved in a way that Elyse appreciated. Slow to talk but quick to laugh. It was a wholesome relationship they’d built off of an affinity for flowers but that would surely mean nothing if her sisters didn’t feel the same. Elyse had her own opinion up until a point, the point whereby she offered the things she enjoyed to her sisters for them to judge as they saw fit. 

Elyse had a true belief in how good her sisters were. Never any beats of hesitation even when others reacted to them conversely. They were stern when necessary and even lethal when called upon by the Church to act. Everything they did was just in Elyse’s eyes and while they together were the Wayward Sisters, Amara and Irelia were the two most important people in her life who managed to keep her in check; naturally docile but dangerously dense. There was constant movement around the house but her sisters’ footsteps were ones she’d come to recognize. A positively giddy grin was offered to her most favorite pair, her saccharine mind only seeing the gettogether going well. 

@mabel-mott

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 28, 2019 where: phi phi omega sorority house with: @elysenight​; @irelianight​; @amsnight​

there had never come a time when mabel mott felt in a position of judgment. she could do no wrong in the eyes of her grandmother, by whom the rest of the motts faced a wrath never experienced by the youngest herself. things were easy for the wytch and if she kept her head down there was never an opportunity for others to scold her or berate her for anything. surely there were the incidental moments where her sisters may not be pleased with her brazen disregard for clothing limits. truly the last time mabel mott remembers feeling nervous for tense interaction was the morning she returned home after a week’s disappearance whereby she sat on a couch very much like the one she finds herself in now and awaited the punishment her mother and grandmother were sure to give her. ironically, the women had been more than grateful for her safe return that nothing further was said on the matter. this, mabel realizes, is nearly as suspenseful as that very moment in her childhood, and surely would not end as well in her favor. 

elyse’s kind words meet her ears and a weak smile forms upon the blonde’s lips. as much as she wants to believe the girl, she finds it hard to keep up with the nearly exhausting optimism at times. her blossoming friendship with elyse night has been nothing but a positive experience for the wytch, and she is more than thankful at the girl’s incessant willingness to take her under her wing and provide her with a bond of loyalty mabel thought only existed between herself and her twin brother. when elyse suggested merging their friendship with the likes of her sisters, mabel knew it would be the girl’s optimism getting her through the situation. after all, mabel mott is not known to have many friends beyond the likes of her immediate family. a damaged girl keeps to herself, and all of that.

“i appreciate your optimism,” mabel whispers, hoping the now approaching duo are unable to hear the wavering in her voice as she stands to greet them.

[mabel-mott-blog]

noospherica‌:

noah fully turns her gaze away from the papers before her when the door cracks open.  she smiles softly, an upwards twist of her mouth to recognize one of her favorite students cross through the maze of book piles and planters that makes up most of her office’s floor and settling in across from her.  mabel’s a good kid.  dedicated more than noah ever expected from any student, especially to her class which matters little unless religion is part of your career goals.  but mabel takes on most things like they all hold sacred weight to her.  matters of life and death rather than electives and requirements, seemingly distancing herself from the difference between the two.  

that’s admirable as much as it is worrying.  it’s a constant in noah’s life, worry that her students will overextend themselves until becoming withdrawn and collapsing every structure in their lives beyond their educations.  if she can help them, she will.  they deserve that at the very least from someone, and if it has to be from a professor than so be it.

“good evening, mabel, it’s nice to see you.”  even if the reasoning is no doubt unpleasant for mabel, it’s important to noah that she says these things and means them.  smiles at her, setting her pen down and resting her arms on her desk.  “don’t worry about lateness, i think i’m here for at least another hour before calling it quits.  …good news is that means i can definitely help you, so.  what’s going on?”

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 12, 2019 where: astoria university with: @noospherica​

it is no secret that the youngest mott nearly catapults herself into her studies. she finds it to be one of the only reprieves from the incessant gnawing in her mind threatening to pull her under to a place she fears she will never recover from. a specter beckoning to her to join her on another side, a side she’s unfamiliar with and unsure whether, once crossed, she would be able to return. so she emits a deep focus to learning and academia in a way that even the brightest of students may lack. as though her life, and her sanity, depends on it. 

even sitting before her professor dulls the edge that has prodded the girl for the last week or so. there is a desperation in the wide-eyed blonde that she hopes noah is able to relax. “thank you for meeting with me,” she feels she has said this already and does her best to recall the words she spoke while entering the room. it is no secret that she is flustered. she takes a deep breath to steady her nerves, emerald sights closing for the briefest of moments before reopening to the familiar face lingering just behind her professor. mabel steels her expression despite her now heavily beating heart. not here, she begs of mrs. speeder who offers the wytch a knowing grin. “i, uh --” mabel, usually eloquent in her speech, stumbles slightly. “as you may know, my family is rather strict with religion,” she begins as finds her mouth is becoming quite dry, “so i’m struggling somewhat even selecting a goddess to write on.” her eyes dance between those of professor danielewski’s and the dark insets where mrs. speeder’s eyes should have been. 

[mabel-mott-blog]

elysenight‌:

“I don’t know… I mean, I used the door, is there another way in?” Others would have said it with a sarcastic bite but Elyse’s response was entirely benign. She stood in front of the stranger so enchanted by the happenchance meeting that her heart was truly delighted to have stumbled so deeply into the entangled manor’s grounds. The young wytch looks past the other’s clear shock as she tends to do to make for better conversation. She doesn’t mean to lean towards ignorance she just always prefers a more level and jovial talking front. Elyse wasn’t told to turn on her heel and so for her, that was as good as any cordial invite to stay. 

Non-sentient. The word slipped by her ear and didn’t hit her brain, not wishing for any further confusion in how eloquently the other seemed to speak. Perhaps she’d heard the word before, maybe in a different life, but in this one, she wasn’t sure of the meaning; her ignorance at play again, this time a purely unavoidable lack of knowledge. “I think that I’d like to be both of that’s okay with you.” The woman had no pull on her life or her choices but she absolutely could if she wanted to. When away from her sisters she tended to hand off her own reins to those who seemed more equipped than she to lead her. 

Elyse looked at the offering in the young woman’s hand, no sense of hesitation in taking it from here. Though there was hesitation as she held it between her fingers and stroked its velvet petals as delicately as she could. She’d never been given a fresh flower before, though she did enjoy gifting them and dotting them around the sorority house when she came back with little finds from around Deadwood. Most were probably some kind of weed that had the ability to dress itself up in a bloom but Elyse wouldn’t have even been the type to know if they were poisonous or not before they killed her. The young wytch was always so frightfully hopeful that it would probably concern anyone if they got an insight into her brain. “Thank you.” It’s sincere and hearty as if the woman has managed to offer her a cure. In a way, she has, Elyse always in search of a cure for her loneliness that would creep in if given a moment to herself. This floral whisperer had saved her from hitting the peak of her walk and making the less than exciting trudge back home with nothing to show for it bar muddied shoes. 

Beautiful. It’s almost as strikingly pretty as the blonde in front of her as she holds the flower in her hand like precious cargo to be minded. What a good and soft act, giving to a stranger. Elyse didn’t know the woman standing in front of her but she recognized her, knowing that even with her lackluster mind she’d hardly forget that face. “How did you get in here?” Repeating the woman’s question in the only way that she can respond beyond gratitude, forgetting to even introduce herself, much more interested by the woman in front of her.  

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 2019 where: mott manor greenhouse with: @elysenight​

as time passes between their conversation, mabel mott cannot help but feel a wave of intrigue crash over her at this girl. the more she looks, the more familiar the dark haired beauty becomes and she’s nearly certain she has seen the girl around astoria university before. this air of familiarity relaxes the youngest mott for the time being, and she feels herself loosening up. it isn’t every day that a stranger meanders into her greenhouse, and lately with the unwanted presence of a certain specter finding her way into mabel’s life, she has been somewhat standoffish to unwanted company. yet the ray-like demeanor of this individual feels contagious, and mabel catches herself smiling as the girl continues to speak.

“of course that’s okay with me,” mabel’s smile widens and she releases a short laugh, “i consider myself both as well, as you can see,” she waves a delicate hand at the surrounding plants, some with flowers and others solely for the purpose of growing vegetation for her mother to use in the kitchen or her sister to use for dyes. “i believe it takes a special person to appreciate the living that cannot speak to us,” she muses, finding herself opening up rather quickly to this girl. “they’re magical  solely in their existence.”

mabel cannot help but peg the woman as somewhat peculiar, and in a way she reminds the girl of her elder sister. forever lost and hindered by her own mind and much too delicate for the harshness of this world. instinctively the wytch feels a need to protect the sunshine emanating from the dark tressed woman before her. “i’m mabel mott,” the blonde offers by way of introduction, wondering if the surname is even necessary considering their location, but decides to leave it anyway for the sake of formality, “this is my greenhouse.” again, the same delicate gesture to the plants housed within the beveled and stained glass structure and an air of pride flowing from the blonde. “you’re welcome here any time...” a pause as she gives the girl a moment to offer her name. “a plant-lover’s sanctuary.”

[mabel-mott-blog]

macaulay-mott‌:

* ╱ 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐓

●︎ when: lotus night; april 22nd, 2019 ●︎ where: black manor ●︎ with: @mabel-mott​

hollowness: this was something that macaulay understood. the youthful wytch was starting to believe that there wasn’t anything that he could do to fix this. what he’s taken away from these countless therapy sessions was that the holes in your life are permanent. we have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; we mold ourselves through the cracks. the same connection could be used to describe his connection with mabel mott. these twins were connected since their short nine month stint in the womb and it was because of her powers that he stood here this afternoon. historically, men in their family were weaker and it wasn’t uncommon for them to suffer untimely deaths. thankfully, the twins and their connections defiled the very curse that haunted their family; which only elevated their empath connection and brought them closer to one another over the years. mabel and macaulay were truly the living reincarnations of life and death themselves and that power alone threatened such pristine hierarchy.

the only situation that could potentially threaten the twins would be their inability to discuss their demons. if macaulay knew that mrs. speeder was haunting his sister, then there would be an even deeper connection shared between them. then again, the twins were too proud to admit their nightmares to one another.

his words held such intensity for valentino lennox. the man was the sun towards his moon and that kind of gravitational pull was so dynamic. mac could sense his sisters slight jealous nature but he couldn’t entertain her feelings at this moment. not when his boyfriend was here with a certain red-head who was all but taunting him. “it’s pathetic isn’t it? since when to i follow around someone like a love struck puppy? i’m half inclined to throw myself from the balcony but chances are you’ll find a way to save me….” he answered with a soft tangible smirk on his lips. only the two of them knew there was some truth to these sentiments.

“did they really come to this event? how quaint…” he chuckled as he took a sip from his own flute. “did you bring a special boy?”

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: lotus night; april 22nd, 2019 where: black manor with: @macaulay-mott​

she can recall as a child seeing the vast difference in attitude from her grandmother toward her two brothers. while her mother, forever the doting woman she was, loved all of her children unconditionally despite the traditions their family once held, their grandmother held fast to the conservative nature of motts’ past. where priscilla forged new traditions and acceptance toward the existence of her sons, eugenia mott was far from kind toward the eldest. her attitude toward macaulay, however, seemed to wax and wane with how well the eldest performed in life. there was a certain air of distaste toward the younger son whenever the elder wasn’t around to remind her that there was a worse mott man born of priscilla and jerome’s union. however, mabel could easily say that her twin brother received only a fraction of the disgust from their grandmother that their elder brother received. then again, mabel reminds herself even today, her elder brother has not made his situation easy. often her sisters teased mabel that the only reason grandmother tolerates macaulay as she does is because of mabel’s own dependence on the boy. the truth remains, and is expressed by her twin brother at this very moment. if any harm befalls her twin brother, mabel mott would go to the ends of the earth to save him. that includes any ill wish brought upon him by their beloved grandmother.

“i did not,” mabel pulls herself to the present and admires her brother’s segue into inquiring about her own love life when he very well knows his is more than enough for both of them to handle. “truthfully?” she prefaces with a grin, “i think you scare away any suitors who may be interested,” it’s somewhat of a joke, but the truth of the matter remains that the only males their age the twins associate with are mainly macaulay’s found brotherhood, and surely none of them would dare pursue his twin sister. though further words hold fast upon her tongue, remaining unspoken yet again. surely mabel mott could court any gentleman here. her family name, though questioned somewhat by the church of night, still holds an air of aristocracy only found in deadwood. additionally, seeing the way people fawn over macaulay only tells her that she, herself, isn’t uncomfortable to look at. if mabel is being honest with herself, she has yet to find an individual to give herself to and she’s unsure if she even can at this point. her eyes lock upon those of her brother and she feels a sudden sting in her heart as the thought of releasing herself to another man crosses her mind. it must be different for macaulay, she muses, his love extends to another man so there is no competition for his affection toward a woman.

[mabel-mott-blog]

llnnx‌:

* ╱ 𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖝

●︎ when: april 22nd, 2019 ●︎ where: black manor, lotus night ●︎ with: @mabel-mott

to understand valentino, one had to first endure the depravity he knows as life. since his youth, the prospect of the church was instilled in him as early as he could recall. but he had his father, his siblings; they were a dysfunctional, slightly unhinged household with fluctuating personalities and a loose father who gave love in the form of a twenty-dollar bill. to valentino, this used to be what he looked forward to. every chore, every good grade, every secret he kept for his siblings; a crisp twenty dollar bill would be placed on his greedy hands. he didn’t take notice of his father’s unbecoming until it was too late, he didn’t press his siblings to stop sneaking out at such late hours till he watched with his own eyes the three of them shot down mercilessly. so you see, valentino dwells in environments were the consensus need to feel, to experience, and take a leap at life with one common goal: to possess.

he doesn’t ponder much on the first impression he’ll have on mabel, but perhaps he worries he won’t find a common denominator between them. she was a twin but she held a very specific flare macaulay did not. tonight brought the perfect opportunity for valentino to get to know his lover’s missing piece. drunk or not, valentino was a convinced man. as she followed, he took not a second longer and extends an arm out, sweeping the blonde underneath them. 

“uh. wrong answer. you gotta’ give me something. that boy’s making me go insane,” his comical stance fades for a bit, grin faltering at the sides. meeting macaulay was a whirlwind in disguise. he didn’t feel the tug and pull at first, so enamored by what he imagined their future to be he never got a grasp on their actual reality. his entire ideals were tested and he gave them up willingly. how could that be? “mhm, practically every guy in my fraternity wants to f—” a shred of conscious stopped him from making a complete fool of himself. he sighed heavily, clearing up his throat and averting his eyes from mabel’s direction. he tended to be blunt, sure, but was smart not to overshare. his vision was turning hazier by the minute but he threads on as if nothing’s matter. “hm. um, yeah. let’s pretend i didn’t say that.”

after the slight awkward shift, they neared the first room. no sound resonated behind the door, but he could’ve sworn he’s seen at least a dozen guests enter it’s chambers. being in the midst of chaos had been his birthright, and he was ready to leap into whatever lied before them. “that’s the thing, mabel; nothing frightens me.” he spoke with confidence, hands locked on the doorknob. an enchantment was placed to open for any other than humans so no entry conversation, password exchanged was needed. it was quite an elaborate mechanism thanks to his truly. he takes his arm off of mabel to open the door fully, head poking in before he widened the door for her to step through. an archaic picture painted itself in front of them; vaympires feeding on visibly aware men and women alike, a few mingling around the far corners sipping on crimson flutes while others lounged around on the couch absentmindedly. they were aristocrats with a glorious thirst valentino had always envied. he was wide-eyed and ready to be the main course. first, he had to make sure mabel was willing to join him. “pick your poison.” he says softly, the door behind them closing on it’s own.

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: lotus night; april 22nd, 2019 where: black manor with: @llnnx​

one of mabel’s quirks, or perhaps even a tic if you look at it in a particular way, is to ensure she go unnoticed in larger settings. she remains in the peripheries, in the shadows, in the places where she is overlooked and able to observe at her own pace, to make her own assumptions and opinions of situations she would otherwise avoid contributing to. lotus night is no different. she arrived earlier not for the social aspect of the party, nor to participate in a night designed for optimal entertainment. no, she attended solely for the company. each of her siblings looked forward to the event, and while macaulay had come on his own, mabel tagged along with her sisters in the hopes of being surrounded by individuals without actually having to converse with anyone. until valentino approached and catapulted her into a situation she had not expected.

with his arm draping over her slight frame, mabel feels herself shrinking. if eyes follow them to their destination surely they will see only a tall, rather handsome wytch escorting an unassuming friend to another part of the manor. they will not put a name to her unfamiliar face. won’t they? not that she’s embarrassed to be seen with the man. after all, there is a great chance he will one day be a relative of hers if things progress better than had this evening. still, mabel mott is used to going unnoticed and hopes that her shrinking figure may one day disappear into nothing.

his pushing inquiry gives her pause, and she’s unsure how to answer his insistent question. normally she is her brother’s greatest secret-keeper. there is a whole world of information shared only between the mott twins that no soul is able to uncover. yet here is an individual persistently prying into that very trove of information like he’s entitled. surely macaulay has told him his feelings, mabel tells herself, unless there’s something he hasn’t shared. she thinks back to her conversation with her brother earlier in the night and a smile rises to her lips. “love struck puppy” she recalls him saying. 

“you’re intriguing to him, and moreso to me,” she offers him by way of explanation, “i’ve never seen my brother react in such a way to another individual,” the truth spills from her lips like a cascade, “in a way it alarms me.” is now the time to give the man the “twin sister” talk? she is about to continue when he comments about his fraternity. she has seen the men who call themselves found brothers before, usually in passing through her escapades with macaulay. most of them are handsome and she will give the men that, and her companion’s unfinished comment comes with much surprise. “no let’s not,” mabel feels a pulsing redness rise to her cheeks and she’s thankful her sister forced her to apply makeup there, “i’ve been under the impression most of them hate me for sharing time with macaulay,” she muses with a light smile.

as they continue through the manor she loses track of each corner they’ve taken and finds herself feeling somewhat turned around and, well, lost. valentino’s answer sends a shiver down her spine and she’s unsure if it’s his words or the sight unfolding before her as he opens the door to an unassuming room to reveal what mabel can only describe as a very sexual feast taking place. the nonchalance in the room felt thick on the air and she enters, rather timidly, behind valentino. her eyes dart from the various faces lining the walls and ornate furniture and the sight of all that blood forces her own heart to beat slightly faster than its already nervously racing rate. “i --” she tries to respond, her confidence in the night draining as quickly as the man’s blood seated directly in front of her. “i’ve never --” again she finds herself uncomprehending, and as her eyes meet valentino’s he’s sure to see there an air of uncertainty mixed with fascination, excitement, and intrigue. 

despite mabel mott’s skittish demeanor, there is an air of curiosity about her that forces her feet forward. “will you show me?”

[mabel-mott-blog]

bram-tolliver‌:

* ╱ 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑

●︎ when: may 22nd, 2019 ●︎ where: mott manor ●︎ with: @mabel-mott

idle fingers traced against the grain of the infant tree that he just planted in the backyard of the mott manor. those same fingers were stained from the dirt in which he’d been digging in for the past hour. all week the housekeepers moaned about their mott’s need for fresh shrubbery in the east corner of the manor and he was forced to comply with their wishes. abraham spent his time telling them that such events were futile this time of year - but his words fell upon deaf ears. once he was satisfied with his outcome, bram pushed himself up from the ground and gathered his supplies into his arms. in a lazy manner, the demon walked over to the greenhouse and secured his supplies in their proper space. humming under his breath, he never once noticed that the space was occupied by another human being. it wasn’t until he turned and casted his focus towards the front of the greenhouse that he noticed a woman standing there in the corner.

“oh sorry, didn’t know there was anyone else in here…” he spoke in a careful dialect, confused at how he failed to sense her presence upon entry. normally, senses were more adept to pick up on such wavelengths. brown hues studied the woman’s features, curious to understand why she looked so familiar to him. “i’m afraid that i don’t recognize you? are you a relative of the mott’s?”

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 22nd, 2019 where: mott manor with: @bram-tolliver​

at a young age she had grown accustomed to the near constant presence of strangers in mott manor. if an unfamiliar face showed up at the front door she was merely to offer them a smile and tell her mother or father that there was a guest there to see them. if someone were wandering the grounds surrounding the great house she was merely to offer them a smile and say hello for they were surely groundskeepers and if not, they would leave sooner or later and learn during their brief excursion why never to return. if someone were to enter her greenhouse, well it was entirely up to mabel how to respond to that form of intrusion. 

with her arms buried all the way up to her elbows in a rather large pot with one of four new species she discovered near the woods last night, mabel doesn’t even look up when she hears someone enter the greenhouse and begin rummaging through supplies. she knows it is not macaulay from the lack of greeting itself, but then again she’s certain she is hidden from view in this corner and wonders briefly if she could pull off a good scare. in the event it is one of her sisters, surely she could get them good. though if it is her eldest brother, mabel pauses and questions whether a prank is the best in this situation as she pulls her arms from the dirt and stands. 

though the individual rummaging through tools is no relation of her own and her heart nearly stops at the sight of him. unfamiliar, and in her greenhouse. she is about to speak out herself when he does so first, and his words hold an elegance normally lost on the helping hands of mott manor; his dialect one of the past. she remains silent as he speaks and she becomes acutely aware of the layer of soil coating her arms and the few specks that have made it onto the ends of her hair. “i am,” her words are clipped, calculated, with an air of confusion. the way in which he so obviously found comfort in entering the greenhouse she has made her sanctuary suggests his familiarity with the manor and her family; yet she is certain she has never seen his face before and he certainly doesn’t know who she is. “this is my home,” a pause, “and my greenhouse.” the addition falls from her tongue with an air of brattiness only her ten year old self would admire, as though staking claim on the area is necessary to ensure her safety within its glass walls. “i don’t recognize you either.” her tone is defensive despite the gnawing feelings arguing within her. her mind tells her this is a strange situation, one in which she is meant to feel apprehension and fear this unfamiliar man. yet there is a pull in her chest that suggests otherwise, that she is meant to feel safe with him, as though his very presence completes the sanctity of the greenhouse itself.

[mabel-mott-blog]

character tropes

acceptance; ambiguous disorder; break the cutie; broken bird; the cassandra; character tics; cloudcuckoolander; cosmic plaything; cryptic comments; dark and troubled past; deadpan snarker; dysfunction junction; fate worse than death; fille fatale; girl posse; haunted heroine; hearing voices; the heart; imaginary friend; tomato in the mirror; the ophelia; twin telepathy; unstuck in time

[mabel-mott-blog]

“i actually haven’t seen her since, well, since bram and i met. i started seeing her when i was a kid and then as an adult i saw her some more, but then he came into my life and she went away.”

[mabel-mott-blog]

moonbloodwolf‌:

“I’m glad to hear it.  I’ve been told I’m a little intimidating when I’m in my own world.” he chuckled nodding his head, “ - no not many people are. Which is why I like it myself; it feels like I’m the only person in the world at this hour.” Candon liked his solitude which was funny considering what he was. Weyrwolves thrived in packs, it was a  bond that allowed a wolf to become stronger. A lone wolf was dangerous unto its self; even still Candon found that he needed those few hours in the morning before starting his day. Especially since he arrived in Deadwood.

South Dakota was beautiful even with the supernatural presence higher here than any place he had lived. The picturesque town did nothing to dissuade the ill feeling he currently harbored. Every day seemed to be a battle of will for him, trying to stave off the beast that wanted vengeance. For what? He wasn’t sure, Candon had long ago decided that he didn’t want an explanation from his sister and he was trying. Trying to do as he was told, to follow her lead. Trying to get to know the woman that bore the name Celeste, a woman that was a far cry from the smiling older sister he had remembered in his own youth. There was something about her, something about this place that left him feeling uneasy. Her pack followed her command with little resistance, some even looking up to her as an older sister; Candon, however, couldn’t find it in himself to do so.

So, instead of feeding the growing urge of dissension that his wolf called for. He took to running. 10 miles in the early morning. No pack, no sister, no people. Just him and the open road. Or him leaping and jumping through that black hill forest when he wanted to sate the wolfs needs to be around the natural elements rather than the man-made ones. It had worked at first when the possibility of him going back to the old pack was still at the forefront of his mind. Now, two months later, the wolf wanted more. Candon just wasn’t sure what more he could give. “ Is it that obvious?” he mused chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. “ - I’m going to have to work on looking less like a tourist. Candon Kovar, nice to meet you Mabel.” returning her smile as he observed her. Mabel clearly had an eye when it came to spotting new people, though the look she was giving him. It made him think that she was attempting to figure him out. Her and just about every local he met. “ So, we both like the early morning but here comes the true test of your character. Are you… a pancake or waffle person? Choose wisely, your answer will set the tone of this relationship moving forward.” 

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 2019 where: outskirts of black hills forest with: @moonbloodwolf​

mabel understands the bond between siblings above all else and she believes companionship between brothers and sisters is one of the strongest forms of magic. as a wytch she was taught from a young age that a coven brings strength, unity, and protection. there have been options for her - from joining the church of night that many motts in her past had done, to considering her own blood a coven. much like weyrwolves, wytches tend to thrive better among others of their kind. though there are limitations. where it is a wolf’s carnal instinct to join forces with others of its kind, a wytch’s coven comes with it certain political aspects one must maneuver before finding that unity. in the mott family’s case, certain actions from their ancestors have caused their name to fall from grace. while they harbor strength of magic in their own rite, their name has been whispered in pity among those of their community for generations. thus their coven has been limited to those who share their name, and mabel has been forced to cherish the bond of family, namely siblings, above those of mere strangers.

she finds his words are relatable and she nods slowly, impressed that he is bold enough to admit it as fact. “i’ve been told something similar,” mabel admits, “as though individuals lost in their own head are dangerous,” she pauses, recalling students at the public school ridiculing her before she traded the experience for homeschooling. it is no secret around deadwood that the motts are... different. uncanny, peculiar, and often misunderstood. their names are littered throughout history books from the town’s founding to the present where their current matriarch finds herself a community staple, albeit one whose name finds itself upon the lips of the mothers on the pta board. 

“not obvious, no,” mabel counters suddenly, “it’s just i’ve lived here my whole life, faces tend to become familiar after so long,” she offers him a smile, “yours isn’t, although if you continue taking this path every morning i’m sure it will be.” a friendly face unfamiliar to her family and their eccentricities is a promising thing, mabel realizes as she settles comfortably into the rhythm of their conversation, only to be caught off guard by his rather unexpected inquiry. “oh, well,” she pauses, “i’ve only ever liked my father’s pancakes... he makes them cinnamon, my favorite. so i must say waffles and it’s a bonus if they’re served with chicken.” at the conclusion of her answer she holds her breath in anticipation, hoping her answer is sufficient to his liking. she’s finding she rather enjoys the company.

[mabel-mott-blog]

“When we die we turn into stories. And every time someone tells one of those stories, it’s like we’re still here for them. We’re all stories in the end.”

nathaniel mott, approx. 32 years old ; suggested portrayal: dan stevens constance mott, approx. 29 years old ; suggested portrayal: brie larson ingrid mott, approx. 26 years old ; suggested portrayal: imogen poots macaulay mott, 22 years old ; portrayed by logan shroyer mabel mott, 22 years old ; portrayed by lili reinhart adelaide mott, died 18-20 years old ; suggested portrayal: kiernan shipka

[mabel-mott-blog]

noospherica‌:

finals are a double edged sword.  so is much of academia, with little care for the actual state of their students so much as what they should learn, ought to have kept in their minds, and the proof that such a thing has come to pass.  the most important thing to noah is that she’s been there.  the requirements that she puts on her students meet the standards expected by astoria and state, but she tries to curve herself away from adding on any excess.  keeping it strictly to what’s required with the rest unnecessary, for fun she tells them, over and over again until it’s drilled into their heads.  it’s just one issue noah’s built with academia, after all.  there’s too many more for her to consider for very long.

so she asks for just essays.  one, and then the other, two different topics but open for plenty of interpretation.  the first ones have all come in so far with plenty of time to work on the other, a pile of essays on noah’s desk that tell each student’s take on the story of a goddess of their choice.  referencing her to archetypes, how they lingered through history for so long and how this goddess has changed with time, become more of her archetype then who she is – or the opposite.  all dependent, noah thinks, as she reaches for the next one and begins to skim over the page.  some of the goddesses are a little more obvious in this prompt, but some students chose more rare ones.  unique women in history who have never existed yet still left their mark in some small part of society today.  

she glances up from the paper at a knocking on the door.  it doesn’t surprise her at this hour, not during this time of schooling, and noah lets the paper fall back to her desk as she leans her arms onto it.  “come in,” noah calls out, “so long as you’re a student of course, i’m afraid no theological debates today with any other professors, thank you.”  

* ╱ 𝓂𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝓉

when: may 12, 2019 where: astoria university with: @noospherica​

to a mott the only goddesses worthy of worship were those born of the very name; women wytches who have carried the burden of their power and coven through time and never felt the weight of the mortal and mundane life of human women or gods with their unpronounceable names. a family who immigrated from western europe to the tortures of colonial america only to be driven farther west and holed up between mountains and deserts. a final sanctuary to practice their craft. no, the only goddesses worthy of recorded history are among their own family tree and nowhere else. at least that was the mantra drilled into mabel’s head since she was a little girl. at that time there was very room for negotiation or questions; any attempt at doubting the lessons grandmothers or aunts gave would give rise to disownment, and surely the thought would never cross mabel’s mind.

as the voice calls out from behind the heavy door the petite blonde pushes it open and suddenly regrets her decision. she has never dealt well with criticism and grows frustrated easily with guidance she cannot interpret. academics tend to come easy to the wytch, and many hours she spends reading and writing among her plants. admitting that this assignment has stumped her is far beneath any mott woman and she can already hear the voice of her grandmother chastising her for consulting a human for help, despite the woman being more than just a professor to her at times.

“good evening, professor,” her words are delicate and she hopes the woman cannot hear the shaking of her voice as she lowers herself into a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “i know it’s late but if you have some time?” mabel inquires and part of her hopes the woman says no, sorry, she has dinner or a meeting to attend to. anything to prevent her from admitting that she has yet to truly start the assignment. 

[mabel-mott-blog]

the moon has never seemed the same;

when everything was broken the devil hit his second stride but you remember what i told you someday, i'll need your spine to hide behind for fear of moments stolen i don't wanna say goodnight but i'll still see you in the morning still know your heart and still know both your eyes i could have told you ‘bout the long nights how no one loves the birds that don't rise so you can tell the heroes go hide my sense of wonder's just a little tired but if only you could see yourself in my eyes you'd see you shine, you shine i know you'd never leave me behind but i am lost this time are we destined to burn or will we last the night? i will hold you 'til i hold you right; i was lost 'til i found you now these songs will hold and hide your name all it was was all about you since that night, the moon has never seemed the same