Hawke listens with growing horror. She is a brutal killer herself, and she was raised to fight, to kill, to survive. Because it was necessary, and it was still a choice. Perhaps she could have picked a different life, given the chance, there was a great deal Hawke was capable of that required less violence. But violence was in her blood. Still, the one thing she never messed around with was kids. If people hurt kids, if they got kids involved in their business, that was a one way ticket to the Champion chopping a head or a limb off. She knew the world was a cruel place, and that children unfortunately got drawn in to that, but it was still her mission to keep them out of it if possible.

This sort of bullshit wasn't exactly a surprise. Not from a twisted government. Not from people, because people were sometimes horrible pricks. It's not that Hawke is startled by the facts, but she is infuriated by them. "Fuck that," she spits out, anger rising up in her. Injustice is not a new thing, but this sort of control over the population just really hits all her bad buttons.

She has no where to aim her anger, so it's a living and breathing thing within her. Her jovial and charming persona has taken a backseat to Marian Hawke at her most righteous. "Those psychotic pricks." She doesn't know what to do with this, scowling. "That's it, we find a bloody way back to your world, I'm going with you, and I'm going to fucking slaughter every one of those bastards in charge." Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, does not make idle promises. "I've killed dragons and the finest of qunari warriors, cowards who kill children won't last a minute."