Fleshbane stands alone among the choking clouds of green vapor, the grains of glass scouring the polish from his metal construction as they ride the gale-force wind. In each hand, he holds one of the fallen Balor's weapons, adopting a similar stance to wield them.
The sword is familiar enough, though smaller and less powerful than his own weapon at initial examination. It possesses a certain... Resonance, however. When he holds it, there is a sensation of unity of purpose with the blade, as though it contains a malevolence all its own, a thirst for death.
The whip feels much the same way, but seems to be of less use. This dual wielding stance is unoptimized for his needs, and he had never had need to be programmed with the intricacies of a weapon that is customarily of useless against even lightly armored foes. This one seems different, but--
"The lash should not be underestimated," comes Au's voice from the chlorine haze as Fleshbane pivots about to try and discern her form from the swirling clouds. "Its benefit is not its ability to deal damage, but its ability to hinder your opponent at range. To trip them. Disarm them."
Fleshbane's eyes flash, raising his forearm before him as a braided gold cable strikes out and wraps around his appendage. He drops the whip and loops the entangling gold braid around his wrist before grabbing the taunt cable. With a mechanical roar, he puts all his considerable might into yanking the braid toward him, and Au at last becomes visible. Sailing on the winds like a kite, she sports wings extending out from her back, one hand ending in the molded form of a long sword, the other in the whip. An abstract representation of the Balor itself.
As she crashes into the ground, Fleshbane is immediately on top of her, the vorpal sword at her throat. He finds that he must consciously restrain the sword from seeking it's killing blow. "You are nothing compared to the Balor," he comments. "What use are you to me if you cannot hope to even approximate the threats I face?"
"There is no shame in having been felled by such a thing," Au says, showing no agitation or stress despite the edge at her neck.
"I do not feel 'shame!'" Fleshbane bellows.
Au's sword reforms itself into a hand, and she raises it to Fleshbane's immobile face, running her long and delicate fingers across the wicked grin he wears. "Gold is near universally associated with beauty," she says. "My kind seek to exemplify and glorify such beauty, whatever form it takes, whatever we judge it to be. I see the beauty I seek in the grace of combat, the power of weapons. What you do not see is that the Balor was not a biological creature, but rather a weapon in itself. A construct, like you, only forged from the fusion of souls rather than metal."
"A construct built in the image of biologicals cannot be said to be notably improved over them," Fleshbane says, releasing Au and standing to his feet.
"I do not disagree," Au says, retracting her wings and resuming her exaggerated female form. "My point is that you should look at what Caizel was able to accomplish with her flawed understandings and fallible organic thought processes. In your life, you were the most devastating weapon conceived on your world. Imagine what heights you could reach if you would allow yourself be molded into your full potential."
"You speak of Zerome?" Fleshbane asks. "You would have me submit willingly to my tormentor?"
Au shrugs. "Zerome seems to have his way with you, willingly or not. I only wonder if you wouldn't be better served by stopping a futile resistance and achieve your full potential all the sooner."
"Never."
Fleshbane vanishes from the chamber only to reappear besides Cu in the reception chamber. "Speak," he says to Ciel, noxious fumes that came along for the ride dissipating around him.
((No dual wield and no exotic weapon proficiency. Blah.))
))