Yapping Indecision

“Do I join the Warden or Battler specialization?” I inquire Rato after class.

The old troglodyte rest his bearded chin in a hand looking thoughtful.

“You’ll go on a lot more hunts as a Battler.” He flippantly answers moving his hand away from his chin towards me rather dismissively.

I simply walk away from the disinterested geezer. I do not remember him being such a jerk about helping people after class.

-- -- --

Last practical magic class has ended… I step over to Michelada to see if she can help me.

“Excuse me Master Gimlet.” I say to the instructor.

The woman turns her gaze to me. My eyes unintentionally wander to where her stone staff touches her rather large bust, that uniform was doing wonders for her chest. Not now! My gaze moves to meet Michelada’s.

“What is it Lydia?” The ridiculously named master inquires.

“I was wondering what specialization you took when you were an applicant.” I answer with an attempted innocent smile.

“It is that time of year.” She mutters putting a hand to the back of her head. “I was a Battler.” The woman states both quickly and bluntly.

“Why did you pick it?” I inquire further.

“I like hunting and if it wasn’t obvious, I’m a pretty aggressive person.” She says punctuating the last part with a laugh. “Turns out that fits being a Battler incredibly well.” She adds still laughing and lifting her head up into the air.

“So you didn’t have any doubts or indecision?” I ask with a sigh looking down at the ground.

The woman stops laughing.

“You will succeed in the one that you choose.” She says putting her free hand on my shoulder. I look up at her.

“That’s part of the problem.” I retort.

The instructor removes her hand from my shoulder and puts it on her hip as if she is triumphant.

“Well I hope this will make you feel better then!” Michelada exclaims. “You can always talk to the instructors of and those who took the other specializations.” She announces. I did not think of that. She points a finger to her head while she adds “Knowledge is the key to being a mage after all.”

-- -- --

The evening sun paints the remnants of the melting snow an orange tint with its light. The blossoms have not appeared yet, unfortunate. I crinkle the specialization pamphlet in my hands.

“Oh, little Yamakuma.” Hawthorn’s voice says. I turn to look at the apprentice. “What are you doing out here?” The elf inquires sitting down next to me.

“Thinking.” I reply before looking at the scenery once more. “I’m trying to decide which specialization to join.” I explain.

“Ahhhhhh.” He says almost wistfully. “It’s not as important as they make it seem.” The apprentice adds.

“What do you mean?” I inquire beginning to lightly kick my feet.

“A lot of things are covered in every specialization.” He explains. “Not to mention you still go on hunts regardless of the choice as well.” He adds with a shrug.

“Which did you pick?” I ask meeting his gaze. Hawthorn shifts to rest a foot on his knee and put an arm on the back of the bench.

“I was in the fighter division and chose the logistics specialization.” He answers with a roguish smirk. His expression quickly shifts to a frown. “I joined the guild to hunt just like pretty much everyone else who joins.” He begins lowering his foot. “I wasn’t top of my year or anything, but I was pretty close. In the top ten somewhere.” He quickly explains before looking at the ground. The elf rests his elbows onto his knees and clasps his hands before continuing “During the first year hunt my group even got second placing.” A sigh escapes his lips. “When we had succeeded. When I watched the life leave that beast’s eyes…” He chokes up the words. “I felt nothing. No joy in our success. Nor sadness or disgust at ending a life.” He finishes stoically.

A silence falls between us. I think he expects me to say something in reaction, but I would rather just listen to the end.

“I realized that all I feel in battle is nothing.” He finally speaks. “While I appreciate the art of fighting I do not enjoy anything else about it.” He continues.

“So what ultimately led to you joining logistics?” I inquire stopping my kicking.

“I loved the coliseum while I was a student here.” Hawthorn says seemingly dodging the question. He sighs while he leans back looking up at the nearly clear evening sky. “Turns out logistics usually gets to coordinate the events there.” He finishes.

“So you chose it because you’re really into theatrics.” I respond without thinking.

The elf puts a hand to his chest as if I hurt him physically.

“You wound me little Yamakuma.” Hawthorn exclaims in fake pain. He moves his hand away from his chest. “I do love the arts.” He replies. At least I only injured his pride a little. “There are all sorts of events in the coliseum besides just fights.” He continues as a smile creases his face. His expression beams with excitement and energy, so much so it almost seems like it could create a light. “My personal favorites are always the plays.” He excitedly explains. Oh no… one of his special interests. “The performers always make the audience feel something. It’s so beautiful!” He rambles on somehow his smile getting even bigger and brighter.

-- -- --

“Where were you this time?” Birta asks me as I step into our dorm. The ogre stretches on her bed.

“Apprentice Hawthorn was talking my ear off about coliseum performances.” I reply closing the door behind me.

“Who did what?” She replies even more confused. She finishes her stretches and sits on the side of her bed.

I sit onto my bed and sigh. I never told her about Hawthorn apparently.

“He’s an apprentice who has talked to me from time to time.” I explain. “He’s kind of like a weird brother or cousin to me at this point.” I say. I begin to chuckle at the description. “He really is like that to me I guess.” I say while still laughing.