II. Weapon of Choice

Vanitas Astor needed to choose a weapon that made him stand out. He is going to choose something basic like a sword. Sword users were more common than bloodbathed Twelves and Vantias was anything but common. It's the same reason that a spear or bow wouldn't do. Vantias would not deny that such weapons had their uses, their simplicity afforded them certain practicality. But they lacked style.

Sure there was a certain grace to the sword, how naturally it felt as an extension of oneself. The bow had an elegance to do, shoot foes away and not dirty oneself with blood too much. As for the spear, well, their spear was more practical than anything approaching poise. Despite this Vantias couldn't deny its effectiveness many a career had emerged victorious, and its crudeness appeared to equal its practicality.

Vantis Astor was not crude. He was Graceful. Stylish. Poised.

But he was no fool either. He would have to find balance. The decision he was making was far from a light one. He would have chosen his weapon specialisation soon. Something that would likely become his one true companion in the arena. Too many of his peers decided to lightly, go with the simplest and safest options - Swords, bows and spears. Almost every arena's cornucopia bore such weapons. Going some more unique came with greater risk but also a greater reward. Lack of competition between other careers if certain weapons were in short supply, an element of surprise and course the finesse of someone befitting his standing.

Vantias was different. When he fought he danced. A dance equally beautiful and vicious dance. A dance that could truly reach perfection with such basic weapons. Style weighed upon him just as much as practicality.

Careful Vantias' lest you let its eccentricities get the better of you but also debase yourself down to commonality.

Vantias gazed at the array of weapons. There were only a few trainees left to choose from. It was good to see there few others may share his quandaries. Vantias walked over to a table where an array of polearms lay.

He found himself drawn to the glaive. Almost as if it was calling out to him. The reach it granted lent to the practicality of the spear. Its curved blade resembles that of the scimitar, the grace of the sword. Those two components singularly may not be particularly remarkable by themselves, but the combination was something most exquisite. The dance Vantias could make with such a weapon would be be most beautiful ever to grace an arena.

Vantias looked around the room, to see if anyone else had their eyes on his chosen weapon. He was only left in the room. Hastily he thought back to see if anyone else had chosen the glaive, there were none that he could recall but there might have been some others. Not so many that he is choice would be common though and besides an Astor should concern himself with the choices of others.

Vantias picked up the glaive presented to the trainer who simply nodded and noted down the Vantias' weapon choice.

Vanitas left the room assured of himself. Come next year his dance would paint the arena red, with him left as its champion.

It's Victor.