Branson had always liked a good party. And Orlesian nobles certainly knew how to throw some of the best. Though their formalwear was not the most comfortable, but when you wanted to blend in, you had to adapt to your surroundings. With a sigh, Branson adjusted the mask over his face. He noticed his brother, Cullen standing in the corner. Only Cullen could manage to look absolutely miserable surrounded by a bunch of women as they giggled, and offered to fetch him drinks. He smirked under the mask, and made his way over, a glass of wine in his hand. Cullen wouldn't take it of course, but that just meant more wine for himself.
"Well, Commander it certainly 'as been awhile," he laid the Orlesian accent on thick, hoping that it would catch his brother even more off guard. Cullen's head tilted to the side, the lack of recognition evident.
"I suppose it has," He nodded towards the women. "Madams, if you would excuse us for a moment." With some reluctance, they left after a moment or two to go find a more willing dance partner.
"I'm sorry," Cullen still looked perplexed. "I may need a reminder of when we were introduced, sir?"
"Well for one thing, we share a mother." Branson laughed, and took a sip from his wine glass. The Orlesian accent now dropped. Replaced with a lower class accent usually associated with farmers. He laughed more as his Cullens jaw briefly dropped.
"Sweet maker, Branson. What are you doing here? How did you get in here? I thought this was invitation only."
"Well, it's a good thing the mother of my son is an Orlesian noble, then, in'nit, Cull?" The two of them were no longer together, but the two of them ended things on good terms. They remained good friends, and he saw his son as often as he could manage. At one point in time, they'd been in love, but the two of them made far better friends, than life partners. The two of them did their best, and with his mothers noble blood, ensured that their son lived comfortably.
"You have a son?" More awe. Cullen was so predictable.
"If you read a letter every once in a while I reckon you'd bloody know that." Branson nudged him gently, the comment was more in jest than anything else.
"Well I do... I just. Are you married as well, then?- Nevermind. This is not the place to discuss such matters. In any case, It's good to see you, Branson."
"Likewise, Mate."
If Cullen rolled his eyes any harder, they'd be in the back of his skull.
"Are you still using that low class farming accent? I thought you'd outgrow it by now. Please, Branson. You're well read, and educated. You don't have to speak like a low born."
Branson drained his own glass was that, or punch Cullen. Not the reunion he'd hoped for. But what else could he have expected? Cullen was always an uptight prick. Why would now be any different? Branson was about to tell his brother when another voice caught his attention.
"Cullen," both men turned to see an Elvhen woman, dressed in the same ugly uniform as the rest of the Inquisition.
"Inquisitor, did you need something? The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better."
For once, Branson was grateful for the Orlesian mask. It hid the fact that he was blushing She was beautiful! Sun kissed skin, long torso, and elegant legs. Her eyes were a piercing shade of some sort, though he couldn't exactly tell what color they were. Colors had never been his forte.
"You've attracted a following." Her voice was ow, and had quite an attractive quality to it. A bit high class for his taste, but she didn't sound overly pretencious. A quality he quite rather liked.
"Inquisitor-" Cullen began.
"Names Branson, Inquisitor. A pleasure I assure you." He bowed playfully, and he could feel the glare that radiated from Cullen.
"My brother, Inquisitor."
"And is he as good a chess player as our commander?" She chuckled quietly, and turned her attention towards Branson who winked at her under the mask.
"I play a fair bit of chess, I reckon. Decent player, yeah? Nothin' compared to m'sister, Mia though. But I'd wager I'd give your Commander here a run for his money."
She smiled. "Will you be joining us at Skyhold, then Branson?"
That was a question he hadn't anticipated. In all honesty he didn't even think about that. He froze, if only for a moment before a witty answer came to him.
"Ah, we have to see if we survive the night, Inquisitor. You know how some of these parties get out of hand. But if we do make it out of this alive, I will certainly consider the invitation. Thank you." Branson slapped Cullen on the back, and bowed once again.
"I'll leave you to your discussion with the Commander. I do hope we meet again. until then, Inquisitor."
The evening went on quite more interesting than anticipated. Occasionally, he'd catch the Inquisitor running about in the ball room. It seemed she'd even managed a dance with the grand Duchess. Much to his surprise, the Orlesian court seemed to approve of her. Nt an easy feat in the slightest. He was impressed by how easily she'd managed to bring three Orlesian leaders together. Inquisitor had her wits about her, that much was certain. Then again, should he really be all that surprised? The whispers of the Inquisitor had spread all over Thedas, but Branson was the sort of man who had to see something to truly believe it.
And sweet maker did he believe it. He'd almost lost hope of finding her towards the end f the evening, when a strange sight caught his eye. The Empress's advisor walking away from a balcony. What was her name again? Morgana? Morgy? No, that wasn't it! In any case. It didn't matter, because his curiosity had led him to her. She sat alone on the balcony.
"Not enjoying the party I reckon?" He smiled as he approached, and casually propped his elbows on the cool stone, and breathed in the cool night air as he removed the stuffy mask. Nobody was around, at the moment. Showing his face shouldn't be too much of an issue. At least not for a moment.
"I'm just worn out." She looked exhausted. Branson couldn't blame her.
"Are you alright?" He reached out a hand, tempted to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. He didn't want to come across as overly intrusive.
"Tonight has been...very long."
She gazed at him.
"So that's what you look like under the mask. I was curious. You look like him you know."
Indeed he did. His shoulder length curls were terrible to manage, but somehow he'd managed to tame them for the evening.
"It's almost as if we're related." He ran a hand over his stubbled cheek, and let his hand drop as it slid over his goatee. Much to Branson's relief, she laughed. Good. The inquisitor had a sense of humor. In times like these, a little fun never hurt anyone."
He chuckled quietly as the partygoers inside clapped. He grinned, and took a step back.
"Would you care for one last dance, Inquisitor? I'm not as harsh a judge as the court, I promise you." He offered out his hand to her. She looked taken aback, but after the question registered, she took his hand.
"That sounds like just the break I needed."
Branson was not the best dancer in the world, but he managed to not step on her toes. He even dipped her playfully. Her laughter rang out over the music. She had a nice laugh. it was infectious. Made her all the more attractive.
Should he be having those sort of thoughts? She'd asked him to come to Skyhold. Essentially an invitation to join the inquisition. Business mixed with pleasure hadn't usually ended well.
"That offer is still on the table you know." She whispered.
"Sorry?"
"To come to Skyhold. I could use another chess partner.
"I'll have to give it some thought. But I reckon I wouldn't mind joinin' up. Can't let Commander Git have all the gory now can I?" He winked, and she buried her head in his shoulder as she attempted to mask her laughter.
"I suppose you can't."
He had a lot to consider. Would he be okay with leaving his son for that long? His mother would understand. And as much as he joked, the inquisition was a good cause.
He mostly missed his brother. If he did join, they could make up for lost time. But the longer they danced, the more attached to the idea he became.
