𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕. || 𝙿𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

2.

Your P.O.V
So, 2 years passed. I was now obviously 2 years old.
I was taken in by the group that saved me for a year until they left me at an orphanage. I now live in that orphanage. Can't blame them, I must be one heck of a baby to care for while you're trying to save millions of people. Or it's either that they didn't want me to get involved in the hero-villain thing, whatever it is.
Also, my vision got better and I can see so much more clearer.
I couldn't exactly speak Hindi fluently due to my tiny tongue, it always makes me fumble over my words but I've learnt how to avoid it. Besides, it'd be too abnormal for a 2 year old anyway. So I decided on using small sentences with puppy eyes to get the favor of the lady in-charge of the orphanage. It always works.

Oh right, I found out about my whole name. (Y/N) Dutta.
So, either one of my parents were Bengali(a language and religion) and the other spoke another language, or both. I couldn't care less, they're dead anyway. But I did want to learn the language so I could cuss people out in a language they didn't know and I could also get off scott free and pretend nothing happened. Cool, right?

Moving on, back to what's happening right now.
I am currently getting carried by one of the workers to the dining room. I had just woken up while I was sharing my little monologue with you.
Breakfast was pretty average for a 2 year old, bread and eggs with some milk.

Right, the worker told me something about meeting the heroes today. They come visit me from time to time, they probably feel bad for leaving me here. After all, I'm the cutest, most passive baby ever.

On the topic of the cutest, most passive baby ever; I had lightly tanned skin. Along with dark brown hair. Pretty average for an Indian. BUT, I did have something special. My big doe eyes, charming, extremely charming eyes. These worked so good at getting any adult wrapped around my finger. Pretty helpful. Thanks parents.
And being a 2 year old meant having a tiny body, tiny body meaning everything's tiny, my arms, legs, face, torso and whatever you can think of.

Anywho, after breakfast I was taken back to my crib. My crib had lots of toys and some Hindi alphabet books. I've been trying to read and write slowly, so I've been asking for more books on a weekly basis. The workers praise me a lot, and so do some of the older children in the orphanage. 

For now, I could only revise the alphabets, since the heroes were coming. I ought to ask them for a Bengali alphabet book sometime. I really wanna cuss at these snobby kids and adults.

"(Y/N)! You have some visitors!" a voice called out, who I assumed was the head of the orphanage. I climbed out of my crib; that wasn't very high off the ground, and went towards the door.

"Hi." I greeted.

"Hey honey! Tum kaise ho?(How are you?)" 'A' said, hugging me right after. I found out that her name was Shrishti when they took me in. She absolutely adores me it seems. She's probably the only one who pampers me so much. It feels good.

"I'm good, how about you guys?" I asked in a childish tone as I looked around our surroundings to see 'P' standing behind her on the side of the door. His name was Parth, and Shrishti and him were a couple it seems. They probably thought of me as their own child. Would suck if one of them died. Oh no, am I foreshadowing?

"We're doing good, how's life?" Parth asked. His humour is very dry, like me. I like it. 

"Good, except for the fact that I've been alive for 2 years. Hi, I'm a child." I reply, sarcastically. I always put up an attitude whenever I'm talking with him, just to make it seem like it's cute how I can switch up from adorable to irritated; which is probably just my thinking but whatever.

"Right, right." He nodded with his arms on his hips. 

I soon let them inside the orphanage and watched as they mingled and talked with the other kids along with some workers. 
I sat in between a corner of a wall with a little art book in one hand and some color pencils in the other. Typical 2 year old. And guess what I was making.