soldtoarmenians: (s7-2)
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
To: bridge.carson@fandomhigh.net
Dear Bridge... )


'What're you doing over there?' Larry asked... )
[Open for OOC, yaddayadda fishcakes!]
soldtoarmenians: (1-serious)
There'd been moments of distraction that made it almost bearable, but saying goodbye to almost everyone today had still been exhausting. It was a strange, melancholy relief when the last of Xander's friends said goodnight and left him alone with Bridge.
soldtoarmenians: (sidelong)
Xander's really packing, this time, not just trying not to and failing. He doesn't want to, but the more he gets squared away now, the more time he'll have left to be with people, instead of doing this. And it's... going. Not well, but it's going. The only problem is he doesn't have enough suitcases, and they aren't nearly big enough, or maybe just not the right kind.

Cut for packing woe )

Some things *cough*, he can carry in his head, of course, even if he didn't get a picture. Thing is, the thing is that ... he's going to have to carry all of what matters most in his head.

Because there's no room in his luggage for the whole damned island, or even a miniature giraffe no matter how weetiny he is, and the one thing Xander would leave everything behind for if he could make it fit...

Well.

Stupid Samsonite.

[For Bridge.]
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
[Look, it's still morning somewhere okay? Okay then. Also: * which might be near to a Private Spot On The Beach but not within visual range omg!]

There's a tent. And there are people in it.

Only two, though. It's a pretty small tent.
__
[OOC: Does that NWS-approaching-with-much-vagueness thing.]
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
Xander, sitting at his desk and staring intelligently into space, occasionally tapping a finger against Jeremiah's tank, is trying to decide something very important.

Food?

Nap?

Food?

Nap?

__
[For the b-word-person. Sidling towards NWS]
soldtoarmenians: (tv)


...*complete silence*

TMI )



...*complete silence*

*frog croak*

*sound of shower going on, and Rikki Don't Lose That Number being played. Loudly.*

soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Funny how tired you can get just walking back to the dorms to pick up some... stuff that Xander will think of on the spot if anybody asks what he and Bridge are doing here. So tired that clearly you have to crash right where you are because you just don't have the energy to hike aaaaaaaaaall the way back down to the cabins. Woe.

Convenient that 'right where you are' happened to have been Xander's bed, last night? Well, yes, possibly.

Cut for length and bordering-on-NWS but oh so vague. )
Or you could just skip that bit and go straight to the plotty. )

[Preplayed with [livejournal.com profile] bridge_carson, not open for interaction, but Xander's heading out to flail in other people's posts. NFB due to dorm-sneakiness.]
soldtoarmenians: (twinkie-share)
Several hours after Willow filled the room with cookie-smelly goodness, the room... still smells like cookie-smelly goodness. Funny about that. It's probably the fact that somewhere in the room there is cookie-smelly goodness.

___
[For Bridge, yis. Gets...bordering on NWS. Which begins to sound familiar. *starts next evening post at noon*]
soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)
After a handwavily arranged meeting in Veronica's room that had led to an evening of tentacles and fake ghosts, Xander's more than happy to get back to his own room, even if he isn't the one most liberally doused with tentacle juice.

__
[For the bf, omg. NFB; approaches NWS but does not quite get there before the curtain falls.]
soldtoarmenians: (t-shirt)


Xander pulls the door shut behind himself as he follows Bridge into his room. The click of the latch catching is familiar. Normal. Casual.

...really loud, for some reason. )

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