soldtoarmenians: (1-worried)

There was a towel tossed across Xander's desk chair, and Bitterwoman, season 2, on pause on the laptop. It'd been on pause most of the day, not that you'd know that if you walked in. Not that you'd be walking in, because the door was locked, The Highwaymen were not on pause, Xander was flopped on his bed with a book in front of him but staring at nothing, pretty much like he had been all day, and if you knocked, he probably wouldn't answer.

Of course if you had a key...


Mar. 18th, 2006 11:55 pm
soldtoarmenians: (play1)

After the play -- during which Xander noticed Molly was not, in fact, twelve, was somehow convinced to wear the squeaky leather after all, and then suddenly became decidedly not himself -- Xander, freshly showerinated and thus most assuredly deleatherated, headed out of 406 on a quest for snacks. As you do.

And said sure, why not, to going along on an Adventure. Because that always works out well.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)

Art History featured sharing of flags and teasinating of Rory with a side-order of backdrop-painting.

Music -- which Xander is not in, so he was not there, saw an appearance by the elusive Twinkie-thief. And some people in leather pants (and skirt yay go Ninja Vin Diesel). This is a complete coincidence. And also Xander was not there.

He was in the common room just long enough to follow Rory and a bunch of other people off to Bridge's place for a game of I Never. Which he totally won. Not because he was the last person to pass out, but because he was smart enough not to touch the spacevodka, and that so counts as winninating in Xander's book.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)
Creature Languages. In which the raven quoth pretty much everything but Nevermore.

The last rehearsal, OMG! Where things were rehearsed.

The 2nd floor common room. Where Rory cut her hair. Well, no, she didn't cut it there. But you get the idea.
soldtoarmenians: (1-cautious)
In Shop, Xander helped Nadia learn about the Lorax except 'help' might be the wrong verb there, made some festive flags for the castle set, and actually did help Nadia with her, um. Flingenation. Of fairy dust. Which he was still covered with when he went to Magical Theory. During which his ears were not remotely burning, because it's already been demonstrated that Xander? Sucks at psychic.

Later there was play rehearsal, and later still, in the common room there was Vanessa Saturn, which was new to Xander's time-warped eyes, plus the apparently now-requisite torture by Rory who is mean and evil and Faithful who is a cat so that's kinda redundant, discussion of temporal displacement with both Bridge and Krycek, an artistic question from Jake and the random appearance of Ninja Vin Diesel.

But not, of course, Ninja Vin Diesel's boyfriend. Because that would just be weird.
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
Xander dropped one of the few remaining chocolate-covered locusts into Jeremiah's tank, and winced as he watched the frog enthusiastically gobble it down. "That, by the way," he said aloud, "Is disgusting. I hope you understand how much I like you, that I'm willing to even touch those things."

Jeremiah gave what Xander sadly suspected was the froggy equivalent of a satisfied belch. Then looked at him with big froggy eyes. Well, ok, tiny bulbous froggy eyes.

"No, and you're not gonna be guilting Isabel into stuffing your face with them this week, either." Xander glanced over at her empty bed with a frown.

The croak that followed might have seemed a little mournful, and that might have been about the lack of more locusts, and it might not, but Xander nodded as he went back to checking his e-mail. "Yeah, me too."

Huh, he thought as he opened one from Janet. It seemed like this was the week for impromptu surprise parties, what with Nadia's last night. Somehow Xander doubted that Angel's was likely to have sandy candy or bulldozer cake, but he supposed he ought to show anyway. If nothing else, it'd keep him out of the empty-except-for-the-frog room tonight. Ribbits aside, the place was still too quiet.

Jeremiah was still looking at him hopefully as he packed up the laptop and got ready to leave for play rehearsal, but Xander shook his head. "No, dude. N.O. No more locusts for you."

Eyes. Big sad froggy eyes.

"Okay, maybe half a lo--" Xander covered his mouth with his hand, and possibly turned a little bit the color Jeremiah used to be. "No. The phrase 'half a locust' does not belong in any normal person's vocabulary. No."

He closed the door behind him, to the sound of a guilt-inducing *ribbit*.
soldtoarmenians: (1-thoughtful)
Things that are almost emo, but that would be ridiculous: In Xander's dresser drawer, there's an envelope hiding underneath his collection of mateless socks. Xander doesn't know what's in it; he walked out of Angel's clinic room with a folded-up note and after twenty seconds standing on the sidewalk outside the clinic, twitching it back and forth in his fingers, resisting the uge to look, he walked straight into the Fandom Post Office, bought a blank envelope, stuffed the note inside, sealed it, and with a borrowed pen, wrote "BUFFY" on the front. Maybe someday he'll open it, once he knows it isn't needed, or maybe he'll just burn the thing. It's a little disturbing how much he really hopes he gets to make that call.

Things that are not emo at all: The 2nd floor common room. Chinese food. Plotting against Ms. Skeeter. Being laughed at by Callistieo. Superpowers. Jaye. Pirates. Ninjas.
soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)
{In completely unexciting form...}

Magical Theory.
E-Mail from Veronica re Logan's Birthday party on Friday.
First rehearsal of a Midsummer Night's WTF.
Oh look listen: Radio
soldtoarmenians: (sleepy)
Five minutes after getting back from his cancelled Shop class, Xander was sound asleep.

Almost two hours later, he was awake, rubbing his eyes, about to be late for Magical Theory, and still, as far as he could remember, hadn't dreamt one damn thing.

Sighing, he checked his e-mail only to find one about the first play rehearsal, which improved his mood no end, of course, then sat down to write up what he could remember of one of his more common recurring dreams.

Yeah, this one's a little more boring. )
soldtoarmenians: (red)
Not in the places that matter...

Speak for yourself, John.

Xander raised an eyebrow at the radio, then lowered it again. Several times.

And then went back to being in an inexplicably cheerful mood, despite the fact that he was lying on his bed flipping through a printout of A Midsummer Night's Dream and totally should have been plotting Jake Gavin's early demise, or at least looking forward to watching Callisto carry it out. But nope. Cheerful. Possibly even humming. Possibly even humming O Canada. Possibly even in Inuktitut.
soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)

Room 406, with deep dedication to an art project. For Shop.
Newspaper, with pertinent, if incomplete, Mountie-information.
Shop class, with KABOOM!
Dewey's office, with annoying note.
Dream's office, with lack of good news.
Jack's poster, with anticlimactic information.
Magical Theory, with the Salem Witch Trials.
2nd floor common room, with possessed TV, random dismemberment and - relax and take a deep breath, because this might come as a bit of a shock around here, but -- boykissing.

soldtoarmenians: (1-neutral)
Xander stared at The Drawer, then at the duct tape and handful of pencils on his desk. Then at The Drawer. Then at the laptop screen full of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Then at The Drawer.

It was wrong, and sacrelicious. And yet.

He pulled open The Drawer , shielded his eyes from the Holy Golden Glow and set to work.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)


Dear Mom and Dad: today I got my missing clothes back and pictured Jake Gavin in a cheerleading outfit, wore John Crichton and got detention for sharing him with Ms. Skeeter, totally had a catfight with Rory Gilmore over a hot Mountie except not because that would be weird and make Dad nod knowingly and say he always knew it which would be one of the 4,000 reasons I'm never actually mailing this letter, took a mid-term in Art History and haven't written a word of it yet, ZOMG, did not tell Angela Chase a fart joke but did almost tell the one about Really Strong Guy Who Can Fly mistaking Unseeable Guy for Bitterwoman, did inform Jaye Tyler that she's abnormal to her everlasting shock, and was informed by Parker who has no first name because I enjoy existing, that I'm an asshat. No, sorry, a bottom. No, sorry, the Bottom. I might be needing to murderize Jake Gavin, cheerleading uniform or not; if so, don't worry. I won't call you for bail money.

Yeah, my life's not complicated.

Hey, if you happen to see a giant snake around town? You're not imagining it; drive the other way.




Dear Willow: Hey. Remember that shared nightmare about ever having to go on a stage again? Guess what...

soldtoarmenians: (reading)
Within, there was a Xander. Who was sort of awake. In that 'sitting at the desk, staring at your Art History book and not really seeing anything, even the Naked Venus On the Half-Shell centerfold in the Early Renaissance section you just flipped through yet again' way.

There could be coffee, but that would require movement.
soldtoarmenians: (tilt)
After scanning an E-mail from Jenny about a dream interpretation project for class, Xander headed off to grab some breakfast in town, but he stopped by the gym first to see if maybe his roomie had borrowed those missing clothes for some reason. In town, he finally had the chance to say hello to Giles. Later, speaking of finallies, Xander finally attended a meeting of the Weird Hometown Support Group.
soldtoarmenians: (the hell?)
But it's probably less than surprising that at three in the afternoon, he was just coming out of the shower, hair dripping, dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt because they were the nearest clean thing to the bathroom when he headed that way after sleeping in... kinda late.

Kinda hard, too, hard enough to miss the radio. A little less restlessly than the night before, though -- which could lead unastute observers of the species harris xandificus to assume he'd managed to come to some sort of accord with whatever restless twitch had prompted his absence yesterday -- but those who've, like, met him would probably catch on that he pretty much just managed to tire himself out completely, brain included. Not that the last one is exactly a difficult proposition.

Now, though, he was looking for clothes that he could wear, oh, outside the room. For instance to an Investigators' Club meeting tonight.

Xander reached into his closet for his favorite rusty-orange button-up to throw on over the tee, and found... nothing. Hangar empty. Buh? He knew he'd washed it in the load on Thursday, but just in case, he checked his basket of dirty laundry. Nope. Not on the chair or accidentally kicked under the bed, either. Closet again: not on the floor, not shoved behind other clothes... And hey, his brown jacket was missing too!

The hell?

He started sorting through the pile of random crap fallen clothes at the bottom of the closet again, just in case, but it looked like they'd completely disappeared.
{Door's open, or, well, not locked - just if you stop in, try to avoid clueing him in about the play, since it'd probably be funnier if that happened with multiple people around.}
soldtoarmenians: (empty bed)
Which is why it's a little odd that his bed is empty. Slept in, yes, though probably not very well, judging from the rumpledness of the pillow and the sheets kicked halfway off the bed. Made, no, because perhaps for a moment we'd forgotten the hour and whose bed it is?

There's a well-fed frog on the desktop who may or may not look perturbed at the uncharacteristic early rising of his owner slave jailer parental figure worm-procurer, but it's hard to tell for sure if he cares; he's kind of inscrutable that way. He might just be annoyed that somebody's sticky-tacked a note to his tank that says, "Frog's been fed, going out to do some studying, not sure when I'll be back."

Note would make more sense if the laptop weren't still sitting on the desk next to the frog, or if anyone who's met him believed for a second that Xander Harris would willingly study on a Saturday.
{For all your Room 406 needs, if you're the type of person to have Room 406 needs... Also just establishing Xander as Not Around, yo. And not in a great mood, wherever the hell he is, following on something that's still being played out from Friday evening. Various places around campus and town, distracting himself and avoiding interaction, basically. If you're there, he left five minutes before you arrived.}


soldtoarmenians: (Default)

January 2007

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