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wolfehawkeAdalwolfe Hawke is in his sixth year of university and he still hasn't declared a major.
It's not that he doesn't have things that interest him - in fact he's taken classes on just about every tract the school offers - he just isn't sure what he wants to commit to for the rest of his life. Which seems ridiculous, mostly. Who does just one thing their whole life? But you can't get a degree in indecision, Hawke is mostly just stalling.
His mother is starting to put the pressure on, though. Both siblings will be entering as Freshmen in the fall and while Hawke thinks its a great idea to still be here and able to help his brother and sister get acclimated, his mother isn't so keen on having three children still all away at school. At least she's not paying for him, as Adalwolfe has been working the entire time he's been here, even after the inheritance rendered his efforts unnecessary. He prefers to work, really. Prefers to do a lot of different things to fill his weeks. Again, why he hasn't chosen a major yet.
Instead, he's a face known by everyone in every department and most of the administration, though not always in the best way, but not in the worst either. He's simply a fixture, whether he's lending a hand in the scene shop, attending a lecture, or behind the counter at the campus hangout. It's the one consistent job he's had through his tenure, serving coffee in the mornings, beer in the evenings, and familiarizing himself with most of the student body - sometimes in multiple ways.
Today, though, he's in the library. He still does take classes, after all, and there's a paper due on Monday that he's been trying to bang out all weekend but keeps having to return to the stacks for one thing or another. This time he's found himself in a rabbit hole of 12th century Imperium iconography, trying to get straight which of the hundreds of emperors with a name ending in '-ius' was the one who started prettying up all the holy sites with mosaic depictions of religious stories.
"Why is it that every emperor's name sounds exactly the bloody same as the last?" he grouses aloud, the low baritone of his voice carrying among the silent metal shelves on the second floor. "They couldn't have named one of them 'Emperor Kyle' or something?"
It's not that he doesn't have things that interest him - in fact he's taken classes on just about every tract the school offers - he just isn't sure what he wants to commit to for the rest of his life. Which seems ridiculous, mostly. Who does just one thing their whole life? But you can't get a degree in indecision, Hawke is mostly just stalling.
His mother is starting to put the pressure on, though. Both siblings will be entering as Freshmen in the fall and while Hawke thinks its a great idea to still be here and able to help his brother and sister get acclimated, his mother isn't so keen on having three children still all away at school. At least she's not paying for him, as Adalwolfe has been working the entire time he's been here, even after the inheritance rendered his efforts unnecessary. He prefers to work, really. Prefers to do a lot of different things to fill his weeks. Again, why he hasn't chosen a major yet.
Instead, he's a face known by everyone in every department and most of the administration, though not always in the best way, but not in the worst either. He's simply a fixture, whether he's lending a hand in the scene shop, attending a lecture, or behind the counter at the campus hangout. It's the one consistent job he's had through his tenure, serving coffee in the mornings, beer in the evenings, and familiarizing himself with most of the student body - sometimes in multiple ways.
Today, though, he's in the library. He still does take classes, after all, and there's a paper due on Monday that he's been trying to bang out all weekend but keeps having to return to the stacks for one thing or another. This time he's found himself in a rabbit hole of 12th century Imperium iconography, trying to get straight which of the hundreds of emperors with a name ending in '-ius' was the one who started prettying up all the holy sites with mosaic depictions of religious stories.
"Why is it that every emperor's name sounds exactly the bloody same as the last?" he grouses aloud, the low baritone of his voice carrying among the silent metal shelves on the second floor. "They couldn't have named one of them 'Emperor Kyle' or something?"
