where do i belong

His little Indigo was a child of summer, and winter seemed to have left him lackluster and quiet. The Warlord found him in the middle of his garden plot. The plants withered by winter frost. He stepped carefully besides the boy, and wrapped the growing child in his arms, looking about his broken dreams.

“Indigo, i’ve a very important job for you” A job that resulted in many trade agreements and hard work. Sirius was in debt, a feeling he did not very much like. The moment spring began, Sirius would be hard at work to repay them. Not all the work had been through trading. It had also involved swimming out to the island of human relics multiple times, loading up the cart, and carefully bringing the goods back to Armada.

The plans had been traded for the, the recipe for cement, traded for. The glass planes, the Warlord had strapped to his back, and swum back from the island with. Long days had gone into the making, but he finally felt prepared to unveil them to the boy.

“Follow me” he told his young son, and took him to the edge of the territory, the Westen section where the grass plains meet the sea plains. There, his construction site, which had been, until today, blocked off from the pack.

He led the boy forward, until the sun began to glint off the glass sides of the tiny house. There, the glasshouse lay. The walkway inside scarcely long enough for Sirius and Indy to sit, nose to nose. The small beds on either side, enough to fit a dozen small plants, but little else. It wasn’t the biggest building in the world, but it was a marvel. The planes of glass connected with the home-made cement. Sirius opened the door, gesturing for his son to enter. Inside, on that walkway, lay stacks of dirt, and small budding plants. “You have a garden to build.”