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It was somewhat of a gradual decline that Dumb witnessed even over the span of just a few days. Yet, strangely, the further this deterioration grew, the more his view of Stormz took a turn—not for the worse, but for the better. And maybe that, in itself, would turn out to be worse after all.
Initially, when he looked at Stormz, he often saw this cold, unrelenting figure. Someone with a twisted heart, a fierce rage sharpening his already piercing gaze. Someone that just about everyone hated, and Dumb considered himself included in that. He was supposed to be.
But, now that he was on Stormz’s side, things changed. At first, he planned to simply feign being a devoted ally. He had no choice, so he figured he would take advantage of it—play into his side, get close to him, and figure out a way to backstab him once he got close enough. But, weirdly enough, Stormz seemed to trust him in an instant.
And in one of those first moments, he even seemed kind, flashing him a smile as he handed Dumb his mace.
The more he fought on Stormz’s side, the more he began to feel…free. Unshackled. And he began to watch Stormz more closely. Not so much to try and gain information, to study him, but out of sheer interest in him as a person. Interest to see where any of these actions were truly coming from.
And one thing she started to observe, was that Stormz was becoming angrier.
He seemed to fight with more messy yet still well-channeled rage, more annoyance, more fierceness. He devolved into something more of a tired and angry mess, almost like something desperate. And Dumb didn’t really know what that desperation was for, in the end.
But that wasn’t her focus. It was Stormz himself that she was focused on, the way he seemed to deflate in annoyance after every battle, whether they won or fled. The way he would slump against a wall and just sit there, or throw himself onto a bed and just lay there, not even falling asleep. And when Dumb caught a glance of his expression, she saw something blank, just staring into space, yet something so tired, so frustrated. And it made her feel a weird pang in her heart. Throughout the many battles they fought, she would catch glances of his face—gritting his teeth, snarling, baring fangs and pouring all of his rage into every swing of his weapon. The dark circles under his eyes only grew darker and darker, and even when his eyelids became heavier later, he still looked so angry, the emotion only being nulled by exhaustion.
It was a strange development. It wasn’t even the unexpected spike in this behavior and emotion of his that caught them off guard. No, it was the way they almost admired it.
When they were out in the midst of a fight, and they saw that look on Stormz’s face, it was like the world paused for a moment. They were almost mesmerized—the fierceness in his eyes that almost glowed red with anger, lips pulled back to reveal glistening fangs, the beautiful look of rage captured in knitted brows and a clenched jaw, in spilling blood and heavy breaths, violent glares and sharp teeth. It was violent. It was scary. It was gorgeous.
And when the battles were over, and they sat there on their bed again after, the image of it replayed in their mind, staying there as if it had been framed right behind their eyes to stare at forever. It almost felt wrong, to find it such a beautiful sight. But something about it just was. There were moments where Stormz’s anger seemed to subside, turning into something more tired, almost remorseful. He would seem sympathetic for what he got Dumb into constantly, moments where he set aside this goal in his mind and just focused on them. And it took everything in their power not to take his face in their hands, look him in the eyes and tell him that it was okay, because he looked beautiful like that.
But he never told Stormz that.
And at the end of what seemed to be everything—all of that building anger, those seemingly-futile efforts, countless fights and actions that slaughtered any semblance of honor—he stood to the side, his entire world paused as he was about to be discarded. And he thought to himself: maybe it’s good, after all, that I never said that.
Yet even in that moment, he took one last look at Stormz, eyes empty with exhaustion, and what he dared to call the slightest hint of regret behind it all, rain dripping from his hair and down his cheeks, and all that he could see was that beautiful, spiteful, rageful being. Even in what seemed to be a final moment of betrayal, he could only see something beautiful.