Like a good neighbour

Branson turned slowly, his dagger gripped firmly but kept low, nonthreatening. His sharp eyes swept over the young woman, noting her plain but clean attire, the way she carried herself—cautious, but not afraid. She didn’t look like a threat, but in Tevinter, appearances could be deceiving. Still, her voice lacked the rehearsed chill of a mage’s pawn or the subservient tone of a beaten slave. Intriguing.

He eased slightly, the edges of his rugged demeanor softening just enough to seem approachable, though he stayed alert. Help? His voice was low and gravelly, a whisper meant for the shadows they shared. Depends. You always wander out here alone, offering aid to strangers with knives?

He took a step back into deeper shadow, still holding her gaze. Branson had a knack for reading people—it was in the way they moved, the way their eyes betrayed what their mouths wouldn’t say. This woman was… wary, yes, but there was no malice in her. That didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous; in Tevinter, even kindness could be a weapon.

What are you doing out here? This isn’t exactly the kind of place you come for an evening stroll, he asked, his tone even, probing without pressing. He kept his movements slow, deliberate, like a wolf circling to gauge the intentions of a potential ally—or foe. His dagger was still in hand, but he held it loosely now, ready to sheath it if she proved herself harmless… or useful.

@Caesennia Othos