Flomme could hear water, but she couldn't see water.
This was a problem, and of course her first instinct was to dive to the side, hopefully away from the torrent. Unfortunately for Flomme, she hadn't expected the water to move from its course, and with a grunt Flomme was slammed in the stomach by a jet that curved to the side.
"Urk... Hah, that all you've got, Kid?"
Flomme stood, a little shaky, and snapped. A flame erupted from her feet, drying her off, and the scantily-clad ward wondered how to proceed. She could hear Archie humming, and she could feel out where he was, more or less, but the copies were making it hard to pinpoint the real thing. It took her a second, but Flomme eventually came to the conclusion that she'd need to rile Archie up somehow. And give him something else to target.
She thought about Archie as she stepped back, thought about his dumb face and his dumber wings and his aggravating... everything, and she began to speak, twisting words into new shapes. It felt easier here, though Flomme couldn't tell if it was due to her surroundings or her anger.
"Archie, Archie, Archie. You stupid goddamn vampire," she began, "you really are something, I'll tell you that. You throw around money and power and supposed class, and for what?"
Flomme spun arms from her syllables, six arms, each holding a cat-o'-nine-tails. The sprouted from her back, and waited. Readied themselves.
"Attention, perhaps? You're a, what did you say? 113 year old vampire, the only survivor, always used to bring someone else up. Always trying, always showing off... Could it be that you're lonely?" Flomme asked, and began to move towards the heat signatures, an eight-armed demonic vassal. "They say that the lonesome bat screeches the loudest, and now that I've met you, I can see exactly why."
"You're pathetic. You're a lonely little manchild who wants someone to notice and enjoy them, Archie, and the thing you don't want to accept is that frankly? Nobody really wants to."
Flomme readied her whips with a loud series of cracks, bracing herself for a response, and locking on mentally.
"You're a tool, and I don't just mean personality-wise. Bathin has you purely to win fights, the only reason anyone came to your sleepover was because there was nothing better to do, and chances are you'll be used for more before you die."
Flomme drew her arms back, and loosed her whips, a storm of harsh leather lashes, all sent towards Archie and his doppelgangers. "Nothing but a scared little boy best used as a shovel. Don't try to deny it, Archie."
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