The Turquoise Cure (Eren X Reader)

Chapter 4: Plantation 9

shortly after arriving on plantation 9, 845, two years before the destruction of plantation 9

Upon your arrival at plantation 9, you were initially surprised and captivated by the expansive vastness that the farm obtained. The fields seemed to stretch endlessly, and the whole plantation was nearly completely vacant. You and the other assignees had been informed that this plantation, along with all other plantations starting after 6, were new and had very little progress thus far. Therefore, you would be the first cultivators, which would make the workload increasingly more difficult. Go figure.

Work started rather abruptly on the plantation. There was no immediacy of learning names, ages, or tragic flaws, because the famine sweeping across the walls was the only immediate thing to care for. Instead of names, nicknames were hastily assigned to save time. Your nickname, for example, was a derivative of your appearance: "scrawny mutt." I'll take that, is what you had thought when your section leader had called you to him with said nickname. I mean, he's got a point.

There were four groups derived of all assignees, and yours seemed to be a complete mix of all ages. There were some who would only stay for a few months before being sent to the Training Corps, some that would spend two years here, like you, and some that were so young that they would spend years here long after you were gone. How are these brats even expected to do anything? I mean, that girl over there looks like she's literally five years old. You examined her warily, feeling some deep, innate pity for her. She seemed alone, and she seemed absolutely clueless. She was standing here, likely after losing everything, looking like a dope; her eyes were wide with curiosity, and her mouth gaped in a childish smile.

This girl's nickname was, much to your hilarity, "innocuous." She was so young that she didn't even fully understand what it meant. That, however, was how you two first met.

"Hey, miss!" she waddled over to you as you were digging holes into the field, on your hands and knees, dirt embedded deep into the roots of your already abused nails. You ignored her at first, too busily invested in planting this damn potato crop that you didn't rightfully care. Then, she scared you. She tapped you on the shoulder, which prompted you to spin around on your knees, grabbing her tawny hand and bracing her warily. You immediately dropped your stance after seeing her terrified, yet, surprisingly astonished reaction. "Woah, miss, that's some really cool- whatever that was- anyway, what's your favorite color?" You gaped at her, mouth slightly cocked open, amazed- and somewhat impressed- by the obliviousness that this little girl obtained. "My favorite- what?" you asked, not even sure that you understood the question. "Silly, don't tell me that you don't have a favorite color?" she said, playfully smiling. She had a smile with many gaps in it, showing her lack of several teeth. The ones that she did have were tiny and pearly white, clearly still her first set.

Seeing your lack of understanding, she explained, "My favorite color is purple, so what's yours?" I guess I've never thought about it. Nobody's really ever asked. "I-I don't know- I guess I don't have one," you mumbled, looking down at your cracked and dirt-caked hands. "No!" the girl whined, "you have to have a favorite color; everyone does!" You thought for a moment, lips pursed together, thinking. "I've always liked the color turquoise," you said, although you weren't even sure where you'd ever seen that color. "Like the swirling of blue, teal, turquoise, aqua green- I don't even know if those are all the same color or what, but I like the way they look; they soothe me," you frantically explained. You hadn't intended to become closer with anyone here, and now here you were, only a week into plantation life, and a little girl has already branded you with her bright, hazel eyes. "Hmm," the little girl said, mulling it over, "that works." "Let me help you with that potato plant; my mommy always used to say that they were-" she leaned closer so that only you could hear- "real b-bitches." You couldn't help it. You coughed out a laugh at the girl's innocence- at her innocuousness- her unknowingness.