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: (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 [ profile] willbedone and the b-word-person. NFB due to omg sekrits.]
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 [ 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: (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.

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: (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: (shop)
After a certain conversation last night in the Common Room (and no, not the one about dirty chips, though that had turned out to be oddly cool), Xander realized he... really, really needed to clean his room, if there was going to be visiting-by-people-not-Bridge happening. Not that he was a complete and utter slob, especially with his less-slobby-than-thou boyfriend hanging in so much, but things could be straightened and... put away and...changed, yes.

So he did that. There might even have been Bouncy Cleaning Music playing, and a frog rolling his eyes.


[For [ profile] willbedone, but others are welcome to come by earlier or later.]
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: (latin)
[AKA Backdated Linkdrop of I Don't Have The Mental Wherewithal To Turn This Into An E-mail At This Stage Of Lateness]


Pippi made pancakes, Walter dished toppings, and Xander (as well as a hungover Bridge) was there to consume them, because he's a nice guy like that. He also talked to Willow and Cally.


There was Scoobying, during which Lana fled in tears, Bridge discovered something was haunting her, and Willow offered to help research it. And said disturbing things about shooting and/or beating up people.

Later, Xander went to Bridge's room with him to pick up some stuff to take back to 121 for a while, because the ghost thing was really spooking (arf arf) him. A trip to the Common Room even later didn't really help much with that.


Xander stopped by Veronica's room and told her what he knew about the First Evil, which was just enough to indicate that it probably wasn't behind the hauntings, and found out that Willow might have helped pin down the thing that was.


Xander shared his complete lack of helpful knowledge again, in reponse to an e-mail from Nadia.
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
There was something Xander was supposed to do when he woke up, and this time the fuzziness wasn't because of weekend weirdness, it was just tied into the whole unpleasant "waking up" concept. He stumbled around the room for a few minutes, feeding Jeremiah, brushing teeth, and doing other wakey-up things, before he finally remembered his conversations with Parker and Callisto last night. (And the one with Bridge, but bears didn't seem to have any direct relevance to the issue, even this early in the morning.) He was supposed to be trying to track down the weekend weirdness by checking his outgoing mail.

...*blink* ...*squint trying to read own bad typing*...*blink more*...*facepalm*

Right. Damage-control. If such a thing was possible.

Dear Willow: )

No more than a few minutes later, a reply appeared.

Dear Xander: )

Xander sighed, flipped up iTunes and put it on shuffle, then started downloading Sunday and Monday night's radio shows to see if they could give him a clue to anything else he might've said or done while truthified.

[Door's open, if anyone feels like wandering by.]
soldtoarmenians: (ow)
Xander stared at the package on his bed, which he'd just retrieved from the post office, a walk that his still generally-aching body wasn't real happy about. He'd had an idea what was in the package, though, and no idea how long it would last before spoiling. It was postmarked London, Florence, O'Fallon, and Castle Rock. It had stamps on it, but the date on them was slightly obscured by what he assumed were owl footprints. So yeah, he was gonna guess butterbeer and pumpkin juice.

He opened it carefully, or as carefully as his splinted-up hand would allow.

Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and flobberworm larvae (dead). Joy.

He opened up his laptop. Dr Willo: )
soldtoarmenians: (frog)

Xander muttered into his pillow. "Lemme sleep, dude. Busy day yesterday." It had been; after an e-mail from Rory, he'd headed to the library to help research, where he'd been pleased to see at least someone had been paying attention in Scoobying, had an unwelcome attack of deja vu when Tyler revealed that there were mummies involved in this week's spate of weirdness, and accidentally ended up talking to Dawn about porn. As you do.

Then there'd been the meeting in Rory's room, where he'd volunteered his computer for the support team, and himself for the fighting. After which he'd handwavily headed back here and poked through the files Willow had left on his laptop to see if there was anything on Egyptian mummies. Which not so much; plenty on South American ones, naturally, but nothing they didn't already know about their more famous cousins. Waste of time anyway, considering not-his-Willow would have all this at her fingertips too, and she had smarter fingers, but he'd wanted to do something to help with Rory's OMGGUILTWOE.

So the second "Ribbit!" which was quickly joined by a third, and then a fourth, was less than welcome. "It's not that late! I'll get you breakfast innaminute. Rarr."

"RIBBIT!" Right in his ear.

Xander turned his head and opened his eyes.

"Ribbit!" said the little green frog on his pillow. "Rbblrt brrrrrum!" said the little green frog next to the little green frog on his pillow.

"CROAK!" said Jeremiah, from his tank.

"...WTF?" said Xander, and sat up, blinking.

Five minutes later, he was scooting them out the door, but for every frog he dumped out into the hallway, another seemed to take its place.

[...No I am not playing with myself in the comments zomg. Haven't you ever seen a guy talking to his frog before? ...that be not a euphemism.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)

Dear Willow, continued.

Xander saved, closed his laptop, and set it on the chest of drawers beside Jeremiah's tank. Then he grinned at the furry form already curled into a tiny ball on his pillow, and turned out the light for bed.

soldtoarmenians: (Default)
When Xander finally wandered home from the campfire outside Snake Cabin, he found an envelope on his bed, attached to a small cardboard box. That was... not entirely usual, but not nearly as bizarre as the small brown owl sitting next to Jeremiah's tank, looking quizzically through the plastic at the frog, who stared just as quizzically back.

"Um. Hi?" Because for all he knew it was one of his cabinmates, who'd decided to disturb the wrong bird's nest today or something.

The owl actually rolled its eyes at him, then fluttered down to land next to the letter. Xander took the hint and opened it. )
{leeeeeenkdrop omg}
soldtoarmenians: (1-laugh)
The kind on real paper.

Dear Willow: )
soldtoarmenians: (fashion zomg)
Dear Willow )

After sending off what felt like a really damn long e-mail to Willow, Xander checked his inbox and found one from Krycek and Jake, at which he grinned and immediately replied.

Then he went back to sitting on the foot of his bed, staring at the couple of bags he'd packed for the cabins, out of boxes that he hadn't even completely unpacked, trying to decide if there was anything else he could or should shove into them before they exploded.
{The door is open to all like an open to all thing. Yeeah notsomuch now. ;-)}


soldtoarmenians: (Default)

January 2007

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