soldtoarmenians: (1-worried)
There's a trunk, and a pile of suitcases and boxes. Even a frog-shaped wastebasket which is, at the moment, stuffed with clean socks and the blankets from Xander's bed. There's also a purple frog in a tank, and there's Xander, and there's Bridge.
___
[For broadcast, but locked to Bridge. Goodbye post is still open, though. Also OMGShut up, it's still morning...on the West Coast...for about 40 minutes...]
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: (latin)


Xander's already handwavily sent out e-mails letting people know his new cellphone number if they didn't have it already, and his UC Sunnydale e-mail address, and... when he's leaving. Which he finally has to say 'tomorrow morning' about instead of 'Friday' because they're one and the same.

Now... he's still packing. Posters, folders, last-minute items and just stuff he wanted to leave up for as long as possible to make the room acknowledge that for now, he still lives here. Every so often he and Bridge are taking a break to look at pictures or watch a dvd, because at this point he's on the flipside of where he was yesterday: if he packs too fast, the room'll be empty, and Xander can't quite take that, not yet.

You can't really say Jeremiah's taking a break; he'd have to have been working in the first place for that to be true. He's just going back and forth between supervising the packing and supervising the loafing.

The door is open. Xander's yearbook is on the desk next to Jeremiah, for anyone who feels like signing it.

__

[Open all day, or ping in tomorrow if needed since some importantomg people are unfortunately afk today. Good for slowplay until... it's done.]

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: (1-neutral)
Xander was...sort of packing. In that way where he was straightening stuff up and putting it in boxes while pretending that maybe it was just because he needed more room and was going to shove all the boxes under the bed. Except not, but there was always the chance. Except not.

[For [livejournal.com profile] willbedone and the b-word-person. NFB due to omg sekrits.]
soldtoarmenians: (1-close)
"I don't feel very broken-upinated," Xander says, frowning. It's not a sad frown, just a perplexed one. They haven't quite made it into the room yet due to 'stuck making out in the doorframe' issues, so he's perhaps not out in left field with the perplexity there.

__
[For Bridge, probably vaguely on the unicorporated outskirts of NWS where you still pay local taxes but don't get bus service.]
soldtoarmenians: (phone)
It's a very, very nifty phone. It takes pictures. It gets the internets. It sends text messages. It... doesn't actually have a calling plan, and Xander's not looking too hard at where it's stealing its signal from, just like he's not looking too hard at how it makes, or possibly summons, Twinkies at the press of one of its many buttons, some of which he hasn't even figured out the function of yet. It might brew mochaccinos for all he knows.

So of course one of the few things he hasn't done with it in the weekend that's passed since he got it is the one thing it was designed to do: make a phone call.

He's staring at it now. Kind of working on that.

cut for phone call )

[pre-played with [livejournal.com profile] bridge_carson; no interaction as Xander's taking off and Bridge-mun is afk. That Xander called home is okay for broadcast; unexpected guest on the other end of the line, no.]
soldtoarmenians: (dinner)
It's not exactly flowers and candles. Xander can do flowers and candles, and honestly he's the type who would, if Bridge were a girl. But he's not, and there's all this buzzing in Xander's brain when he asks himself if guys do stuff like that for themselves or just for girls in which case no, and if he's the kind of guy who just might be an exception to that, does it make him way too girly in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that he's dating a guy? So yeah, not so much because it makes his head hurt.

There's glitter, though. He really can't escape that, considering he's vacuumed three times and it's still twinkling in the carpet. There's also takeout from Ching Tai on the counter, something tall-ish in the corner with a sheet thrown over it, and music - not Steely Dan, it might confuse the frog - playing. Because he's fairly confident that guys can do music and still be guys.

__
[For Bridge; I know y'all are shocked omg.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Dear Willow )

...well that killed... five minutes. Xander sighed. If he stayed in this room much longer, he was going to end up vacuuming the bedspread, he realized. Not that he could by any stretch of the imagination be described as a cleaning-freak - he'd just been trying to make the place reasonably nice for this evening, which in Xanderese meant 'at least not a disaster area.' Somehow that turned into a battle with the stuff he'd spilled all over while working on his project thingy, though, and in the age-old war between humans and glitter, it ain't ever the monkeyboys that win. The fact that Bridge was off with his Flight workshop and the whole non-disaster-area effort was in fact for his benefit wasn't exactly helping Xander avoid obsessing, either.

So he seriously needed to get out of here before he went stir-crazy. Town could be a thing.
__
[Linkdrop ahoy, no interaction here because he's off to watch SoaP!]
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: (shop)
A beep distracted Xander from the project he was working on, and he set it aside for a moment, going to the desk and opening his e-mail window.

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: wrosenberg@ucsd.edu
Subject: Hi!
Dear Xander )

Xander blinked and typed up a reply )

Then he went back to his bed, where the contents of his project were spread out across the blanket.

__
[Open, though I'm madly combatting a potential worm, so if I disappear unexpectedly it's because I had to re-start.]
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: (sleepy)


*poke*

*pokepoke*

*pokepokepoke*

*mumble*

*poke*

__
[Locked to the poke-ee, not dirty. ...probably.]

soldtoarmenians: (1-smallsmile)


He was trying to make sure that every minute he had left in Fandom this summer counted. Xander had the feeling someone like Willow wouldn't see it that way, because she'd be trying to cram every possible experience known to humankind into this last month, but... he was good with small and slow and relaxed, so when he remembered this, he'd remember loving it.

So food and fun in the fake snow, a comfortingly familiar dinner in an unfamiliar place, drinking games, making a rare trip to Caritas by himself when Bridge hadn't been feeling well, spending time on the beach with Rory, Callisto and Bridge, teaching his workshop, hanging out in the Common Rooms, playing carnival games and riding the Ferris Wheel with Bridge... It was as close to just right as anything with 'this last month' involved in its description was ever going to be. Not ever enough, but... right.


[*And no mental wherewithal to turn it into an e-mail, so yay lazy narration. Not open for interaction as he's about to wander off to the Common Room.]

soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Xander was sort of just sitting in bed checking e-mail, as you do, since somebody else wasn't awake and despite the ice cream-and-leftover-birthday-cake remedy he'd brought back last night, somebody else was in theory still sleeping off a headache.

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: wrosenberg@ucsd.edu
Subject: New E-Mail Address, Poke, I'm Home, Poke, Rats I No Longer Have, Poke, Various, Poke, Sundry

Dear Xander )

*blinkblink* Xander hit reply and was about to open with asking if she was okay with the thing with the thing no longer being a thing, given other things with things and how they were no longer things, and other people's similar things with things, but then for some reason he became very interested in the fact that Bridge seemed to have a new freckle on his left wrist just below the edge of his glove, and by the time he started typing, he'd forgotten completely about whatever he was going to ask. Huh.

Dear Willow )

Dear Willow )

[Not open for IC interaction; teal dear and others are welcome to stop by and let your eyes glaze over OOC-ly. Bridgemodding with permission zomg.]
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Waking up in a big bed that somebody else seems to think is a tiny bed judging from how close they're snuggling? That really does not get old, as far as Xander's concerned.

[Er yes, for Bridge. shock!]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Crazy week? Doesn't even begin to cover it. There'd been running into Conner, Anders, and Z, which had lead to a trip to Caritas on Wednesday, then trying to convince Bridge he needed to OMG specify when complaining about teachers who made him take his shirt off in class on Thursday, then a picnic and later sneaking off from the Seahorse campfire on Friday. Then Saturday he'd been having a very nice wake-up call until they realized somebody'd stolen their voices, leading to much worried checking on people, being trapped in the dorms for the night and eventually a crazy-late chat-room experience -- followed by another night locked in the dorms on Sunday. Not that locked in the dorms was bad, per se, but everybody locked in the dorms and going stir-crazy from worry was an experience Xander could live without repeating.

So it really isn't too surprising that it's taken until now, when they're safe again, have their voices back and are back in the cabins, for Xander to get around to remembering that last week, he'd promised to um. Do something. For um. Somebody.

Which leaves him sitting in his alcove in Flamingo cabin with the curtain shut and headphones on, staring at his laptop. As you do when you're doing that particular something. In a cabin.

[For Bridge, for the moment. Possibly for later appearance by certain other peoples]
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.]

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