TPN x READER #2?? (Second drafts)

Chapter 1

How could she become attached to children born to die? It was unthinkable.

The lime green eyes crinkled in a rare soft smile as he spoke his next words. "Goodbye, [Name]."

The young girl regarded him with a slight nod as she turned to the door. "Goodbye, Mr. Ratri."

[Name] gripped the cool doorknob and prepared to twist it, when his voice came one last time from behind her.

"I wonder why you refuse to call me brother," Peter hummed, "when you referred that way to the traitor until not long ago?"

[Name] could picture his expression– he'd still be smiling, with eyes crinkled in a slightly pained expression. But the smile would have a dry, mocking sort of humour to it that betrayed that painful sort-of look on his face.

Let him be pained.

She turned the handle and pushed it open, sunlight streaming through the crack.

"Goodbye, Mr. Ratri."

<3 love her already

[Name] stood at the end of the large bridge, a faint breeze of wind ruffling her paper-white uniform. On either side of the bridge spanned a massive cliff, dizzyingly deep. Halfway across the bridge stood a woman.

[Name] could just barely make out her features from where she stood. The woman was farther into her life, with wavy, grey-blonde hair cropped close to her jaw. Her long black dressed was puffed at the shoulders and billowed around her ankles in the wind.

[Name] started across the bridge, her stiff leather suitcase tapping against her knees as she walked.

[Name] observed the Grandmother as she approached, the automatic analysis beginning. It always did, whether [Name] wished it so or not.

Grandmother Sarah.

Once a mother for the second plant of Grace Field farm, during which she raised the apparently prodigious mother, Isabella. Her motives are generally unconfirmed, albeit her actions maintaining contact with certain Ratri members has made her loyalty noticeably suspicious as of late.

Because of her success, Grandmother Sarah is notably prideful. This makes her a strict and relentless leader. However, it also plays a part in her weaknesses– the most exploitable of which being her arrogance.

[Name] soon arrived in front of the older woman, who smiled at the young girl before her without a trace of humour.

It was an expression [Name] was used to, though she supposed it wasn't one she enjoyed.

"Hello, 04194." The Grandmother addressed the girl by her identification code.

[Name]'s hand subconsciously reached up to touch the side of her neck. There, the bold black numbers of her identification code had recently been tattooed painfully onto her neck. She could still feel the sting of the needle on her skin, a phantom pain.

She let her hand fall back to her suitcase. "Hello, Grandmother Sarah," she said.

The Grandmother gestured for [Name] to follow her, as she turned and began walking in the opposite direction. The girl soon found herself nearly jogging as she struggled to keep up with the older woman's long and powerful strides. It was a walk that would be strenuous activity for most kids her age.

She avoided a single complaint, regardless.

The woman spoke without turning to look back at the girl following her.