Ellever watches him shift between forms with fascination. She's only met a handful of other people -- or creatures -- who could do something like that. And none of them had done so with that flair, the mist, which is downright magical to her. She isn't sure if that's the proper word for it, but that's the one she's going with.

"It... really is crazy dark here, I'm not surprised it makes things difficult for you," she has to agree, unconsciously tightening her grip on her wrought iron and amber glass lantern. But something he'd said tugs her attention away from the impressive night around them. "Wait, did you just say 'hostile spirits'?"

This would be her second time talking to someone about a hostile spirit in as many months. Last time things had ended messily, but okay. The Will o' Wisps had been friendly to her, if rather inscrutable otherwise, and she'd managed to turn the situation around. But this time...

"They're just following me around now," she notes, with both confusion and vague amusement.