<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">The display of magic within the crowd is gone unnoticed by the mage—with her eyes already fixated on the burning torch about to spell her doom—until the whip grasps onto the executioner and pulls him away with the torch in tow. Though her struggle doesn't quite ease, she takes in the source of the disruption; a white-haired woman with a face she marks as unfamiliar. <br/><br/>The fanatics panic at the sight of her magic, gasping and screaming disgraceful terms at her as they scurry back, quickly arming themselves with pitchforks, harvesting hooks, and whatever they can get their hands on. <br/><br/>As the woman reaches Hawke, she might hear the tied mage grumble something beneath her breath. Her first few words are barely audible, and then . . . <br/><br/>❛ I am going to go ahead and assume you're about to untie me. Better do it quickly, though, burning at the stake wasn't really on my to-do-list today~ ❜</span></span></div>