Hey, Blue

5 - Mirror

Marley awakes feelings a bit blue, but it's a feeling that doesn't last longer than an hour– with the help of a cup of tea and an envelope sitting on the kitchen counter.

He and his boss don't often talk over letters, text messages are often enough, but Marley knows that the woman in the big chair prefers a paper trail, even with the invention of mobile phones and the already existing but readily improving carrier spells.

The letter Marley receives in response to the one he'd sent about Cerys is enough to rid the ache in him completely. (not truly, that would be ridiculous, but–)

His boss has some opinions on his interest, mainly positive, but opinions nonetheless.

Mandi's glad that Marley has taken interest in a patient, and that even if for just this one appointment, that he would be welcome in the office. She says it's been quiet without him, he almost laughs at that. As if Marley was ever a loud or bright presence.

She writes that Cerys can't come to the office often, and that currently, despite what had been written in her records, did not have a primary specialist for her medication. That if Marley was willing, and it wouldn't bother his own illness too much, he would be given the opportunity to fill that position. Just for Cerys and just for her medication.

It was... something.

Marley had never been more excited.

He's grabbing a sheet of parchment and writing a response back before he's even properly set down his mug of tea on the desk, the ceramic cup teetering dangerously against the edge.

Marley would accept this opportunity. He didn't get them often.

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He'd left long before Emrys woke up, leaving a note on the counter along with a bagged lunch like he tended to do when he wanted to appear apologetic. The sun had only started rising as he stepped out the door.

The walk to Merlin's Rest is familiar, but in a way that was once bittersweet. On the outside, and from a distance, the clinic looks like any other hospital or medical building, but as most clinics in witch society, the closer you got– the more that appeared.

It is shrouded in autumn leaves, the trees arching over the building in a way that is not unlike the protective runes that actually do protect it. Cradling the concrete in natural shape.

He's wearing his old scrubs, the same ones he wore two years prior. They still fit, and Marley truly couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. What he could tell was that, like he remembered, the fabric they were made of left quite a bit to be desired, the thin cotton and polyester blend rubbing against the pleather weekender back he had thrown over his shoulder in a way that grated his ear with every movement.

Especially since he had to be careful with the bag, it was carrying precious goods–afterall.

The automatic doors clicked softly before sliding open, revealing a newly renovated waiting area. It hadn't looked this nice back in 1998. The walls were a calming mix of beige and blue, accented with dark wooden baseboards that hinted at the clinic's original structure. Plush, earth-toned armchairs were arranged in cosy clusters, each paired with low glass tables neatly stacked with magazines. A potted ficus stood in one corner, its glossy leaves catching the sunlight from the frosted windows.

The soft hum of fluorescent lighting overhead was nearly drowned out by the mellow instrumental music drifting from hidden speakers. A polished wooden reception desk sat near the far wall, scattered with a few clipboards and a sleek desktop computer, though whoever had been manning it must have just stepped away.