Hope and Rory
Aruraliel was in much the same condition, his demon side hiding from the sigil. It was good, though. It meant that part of him couldn't gain control. He looked over at Hope for a moment, impressed by how terrifying she looked. He shook the thought away, though. The fog wanted him, but he wouldn't let it win. He had a long, silver bladed hunting knife in one hand, the only weapon he could grab. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he knew it might be necessary. He could always heal them after.
"It doesn't want to leave." His volume just a little bit louder than it really needed to be.