Maybe it’s my savior complex or something, but I love when whumpees who have been through hell and beyond go bitter. When whumpees who used to be so nice end up becoming worse and crueler than their own whumper. Not in a screaming type of whumper. But the one that has burnt with ice.
A whumpee that turns into a whumper that doesn’t mind not being in control. They never were, in the first place. But they will be damned if they don’t carry on their plans, the nothingness pushing them over the edge of morality and sanity in order to succeed. In revenge, maybe. But at a god? At humanity? At nature? At a person in specific?
Who knows.
What they know, though, is that they won’t stop until they’re satisfied, even if they’re somewhat aware that they won’t because they’ve got nothing else to lose.