Alcuin cries out in shock, throwing up a hand as the lightning blazes. As it dies down, he lowers his arm, blinking watering eyes, but hastily looks aside as per her wishes. He rubs away the after images and listens hard to the two Qunari sorting themselves out.

Snippets of his own history flicker in the back of his mind, leading him to brush his fingertips briefly across a dagger hilt before looking up to his guide's face. "...Asaraanda?" he asks, soft and empathetic, touching her arm gently.