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'Just Adam', page 2

It always struck me, how Adam almost obsessively clung to his titles. The first man, the first soul in Heaven, the leader of the exorcists... It's like his whole identity is constructed around them.

That's another reason, why I love sinner Adam stories so much.

Getting stripped of all these titles and falling to Hell, where no one even cares that he's the first man, probably would be one of the hardest but also one of the healthiest experiences for him. Maybe that would give him a chance to rebuild his identity, not as an idealized, legendary figure, but as a person.

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'Just Adam', page 1

I had a pretty shitty last few weeks and probably will not have much better time in the foreseeable future. Honestly, I just want to fall asleep and hibernate for like three months, lol. And I have been seeing that quite a few people have been having a rough time lately.

Anyway, I'm dedicating this short, three-page comic to everyone, who has been feeling down. I'm finishing the other two pages right now. So, have some angst (angst makes people happy, right?)

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Inspired by this post

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Cursed Garden

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Adamsapple harvest

Day 15: Rainy Day 🌧️

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Adamsapple harvest

Day 6: Bonfire 🔥

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Snapshots of Serenity #1

Lunch. We have some of these cute little fellas in the park of my town. They are pretty used to people.

Love walking around the forest after the rain. All colors seem much more vibrant.

A moment of peace.

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The prayer

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Raziel

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In the dusky twilight of the highest realm, an empyrean domain of iridescent clouds and gilded cities dwelt a being of unparalleled radiance. Once the first life on the mortal ground, now an angel of eternal glory, how so exalted he was in the celestial chronicles. And yet, in the shadow of his grandeur, a seed of pride took root, flourishing like a golden weed amidst a garden of virtues. Sanctified by sin in the blind crusade, the creature fell to the blade of a damned and the divine judgement. Down he spiralled through the crimson firmament, his fall a silent testament to the celestial transgression. The world below, a churning sea of lost souls, of shouts and screams and hollow whispers, embraced him with the cold, unyielding grip of retribution. And thus, even the brightest luminary was extinguished by its own arrogance, leaving but a forlorn phantom of the former glory. Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

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Sorrow