As they entered the charred remains of the house, Altair just barely resisted kicking the body of the Templar who had died just outside it. The temptation was there as the Templar had been nothing and no one deserving honor in life or in death, but it was a bit juvenile even for him. So he resisted.

Instead staying close to Anders, so he could provide comfort in proximity at least.

His head tilted down at the sound of flames- a silent prayer of his own, and the wish for them to find peace. The place felt a bit lighter already- not entirely. But still. Just a little. Enough to be able to hope that the feeling of pain and fear would fade away eventually.

"I think I'll revise my earlier statement and say that the only good Templar and the only merciful Templar is a dead one. I don't want to imagine the cruelty necessary to do something like this and still consider oneself a decent sort."

Maybe he'd kick that Templar's corpse on the way out.

"Is leaving flowers for the dead something commonly done here? I think I'd like to leave some here for these two."

That would mean going out to pick some and coming back, but Altair was willing to take the time.