more than this
It’s an early morning in Tintagel. The soft mist floats lazily across the lush green hills, sparkling streams cascade through a gentle dip in the landscape, and the birds are beginning to recite their daily song.
Down on the beach the water glimmers, the water whispering untold stories, before crashing against black, slime covered jagged rocks. Hazel eyes take in the serenity, a man standing on the pebbled shoreline, a leather bound book cradled in his hands, and a black pen twisted in chestnut brown curls. The man gazes, face alight with the soft sunshine that peeks through mist.
All is quiet. Perfect.
But then, a violent buzzing sound shatters the peace.
The man shakes his head and reaches into his brown threadbare pants.
“Fuck”.
Remus’s eyes widen slightly as his eyes scan the text on his phone.
He turns and swiftly runs up the cobblestone path that leads to the village centre.
Marlene. How could have he forgotten? As he rounds the corner to a small wind beaten cafe he catches a head of painfully purple hair in a velvet window seat. He pushes the door open and he's hit with the rich, warm scent of coffee and sweet golden pastries.
He relishes in the homely atmosphere for a split second before scrambling to sit down next to Marlene. Marlene is the type of girl that looks as if she would take out your eye in a split second, but is actually the biggest softball you can imagine. Her calm but intimidating demeanour was the one thing that got Remus through high school, a veritable hell.
As he sits, Marlene turns towards him, her pale freckled face alighting into a smirk.
“Waiting for half an hour Rem, where the fuck were you?”
“T-the shoreline”.
Remus isn't sure why he stumbles over his words, it's no secret that ever since Hope died he's spent his mornings staring listlessly at the sunrise, searching for a memory of his mum, a tangible feeling, to root him back to the ground after being severed.
Marlene's brow creases, her lips pursed with worry.
“Rem, honey-”
Remus interrupts her with a wave of his hand and a munch through an especially flaky danish.
“I’m fine Marls, really”.
She didn’t look convinced but let it go,
“Fine, just..tell me if you're feeling..shitty?”
“Always, Marls”.
She smiles softly and pulls something from her bag,
“ You've been looking for a job, you lazy lump, so I asked around and the Museum seems to need a new guide, and they seem to think you are the answer”.
She holds out the envelope, its bold black script jumps out at him, and Remus looks at Marlene warily.
“A guide, how in fucks sake do they think I would be a good guide?? I cant talk to people without collapsing into a nervous mess Marls....”
Marlene sighs, her eyes looking at Remus steadily.
“ Just, give it a go, for all you know you might love it - it might be good for you too yk, get out more.”
Remus sighs, looking down at the envelope, maybe, maybe this would work out. He looks up at Marlene.
“Fine”.