White clouds, the wind whistles in the air. Somewhere in this world, someone small is just waking up…
Last Sprout: A Seedling of Hope - first look trailer! 🌱
A roguelite adventure, grow plants, master powerful weapons, and fight the swarm of robot enemies that thirst for your blood 🩸
Follow this tag to learn more about Last Sprout 🌱
You can support me on Patreon for £1 and see concept art, assets, and snippets of story for the game!
Night and dusk skies illustrations for my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Indescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon, Bluesky, archives on my website).
Keep reading for the companion texts.
March 25th: We report: it is marshy here, and we are struggling to pick our feet back up every time we put them down. We speak low, but the sound of our steps is louder than our voice anyway. We watch our expert's back through the fog of our breath. The full moon is completely obscured.
April 2nd: We report, tonight, from the depths of soggy darkness. It is a day for night set out here, the clouds are practically shining in the sub-horizon light. Our expert talks at length about the Purkinje effect, the fact that the colour our human eyes see best in low light is blue.
April 14th: We report between one breath and the next: colours are not burnt out yet, there are a handful lying around there. In just a beat, the day will have been consumed, down to the very last bit of candlewick. We are trying to cram all our hopes and dreams into that last second.
April 22nd: We report after staying alone in the dark for too long: it is a nice thought that after the Sun burns out, so many of those stars will be left. So that the small handful of minerals that is in our ribcage and our teeth and nails may yet be part of something else, in a long time.
May 4th: We report at the hour when ghosts appear, walking in the middle of the road. It is not enough of a place that we imagine any cars could come by here and now, but we keep listening for them anyway. Instead, we hear echoes of a motorway in the distance, and the wind in our ears.
May 8th: We report on a moonless night: the power is out in the neighbourhood. Our eyes are tired, it is a balmy spring evening, and when we look up, we cannot help but think the stars are about to fall on us. They flicker. We lose our balance as we forget where the ground is.
May 12th: We report at dawn: when we got up during the night, the sky was clear and full of stars, but this morning, we can smell rain and shivers on the wind. The clouds brood, big and dark; we appreciate their languidness in the face of the breeze. In time, the sunlight will break out.
May 20th: We report about early in the night, when there is still blue to be found in the remnants of light. This is not anywhere near a clear night - we can tell by the brushstrokes across the vault - but we see more than a few stars. They come out shy and dim, but we see them.
May 25th: We report: morning, the sunrise is starting to show colours through the clouds. The leaves are heavy with dew, and rain is fast approaching. The air is already charged with that humid morning smell, but there is definitely rain on top. It feels icy as it goes through our nose.
May 28th: We report: there was fog when we fell asleep last night, and it has not entirely lifted yet in the blue morning. There is a sea in the field. We are squinting at it as though it were the glare of the sun, hoping to see through it. We get mist in our eyelashes for our troubles.
Just a goofy outfit swap with Xena and Karlach because I draw what I want and I refuse to be stopped (though for the record - in D&D shit Xena's probably a fighter not a barbarian.)
Both their sleeveless stick-wielding girlfriends seem to be enjoying this though.