soldtoarmenians

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.]

Current Mood: indescribable
Current Location: room 121

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.]

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: room 121/Xander's head.

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]

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.]

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Location: 121

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: )

Current Mood: oversharey

( Dear Xander: )
( Dear Willow: )

Current Location: Room 121

Dear Willow, continued.

... he is if we go by the 'one date and everybody starts calling you that so might as well go with the flow' method, which is popular around here.

Sorry, meant to finish this last night and send it today, but Bridge turned into a ferret. Then there were gnomes, then I had to explain to five million people (Veronica + Piper + Callisto + Rory + Other You + Very Polite Japanese Girl Whose Name I Have No Idea How To Spell + Jack + Nadia + Alanna And Her Evil Cat + D'anna = 5,000,000) how I have no idea why Bridge is a ferret, and then there was poi.

So it's been kind of a day.

Love, Xander.

P.S. What's the chance of getting some butterbeer and -- I didn't ask, just smiled and nodded -- pumpkin juice shipped over here? Isabel wants to treat one of the new kids to the comforts of home.

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.

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Location: Bed

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}

The kind on real paper.

( Dear Willow: )

Current Mood: amused
Current Location: heading for town

Note on the door of 121: Gone adventuring, yay.

Current Location: the 6th floor

The door's open, but there's a whiteboard propped on a box in the hallway next to it that says,

(the one without the accent)

Inside, Xander's desktop is pretty much empty of everything but a selection of snacks and drinks. Xander's side of the room is pretty close to empty, and on the wall where his posters used to be, a multilingual robot doggie is projecting a marathon of The Real World: Springfield.

Xander's bed is shoved up against one wall, pillows thrown around to make it couchlike for sitting thereupon. As you do.

Inside, you'd find Xander, Isabel, and Bridge hanging out. And RIC, of course.

__
{OOC - open for visitors and hanging out. ~~Hopefully not 1000+ comments worth, though! WTF, Common Rooms, WTF?~~}

Current Location: 406, yo

To: bsummers@pacbell.net
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Graduation

( Dear Buffy: )
( Dear Xander: )
( Dear Willow, love Buffy: )
( Dear Buffy, love Willow: )
( Dear Willow, love Buffy: )
__

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Subject: Graduation

> It's Monday. Can you and Giles come?

*COUGH*

love,
your uninvited BFF
__
( Dear Willow: )
( Dear Xander: )

Current Mood: busy
Current Location: the internets

Shop = tree
Creature Languages = lobster
Magical Theory = quiz
Common room = land of somebody's Oedipus complex, but... Xander's not sure whose

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Subject: Helloooooooo...

Dear Mr. Noncommunicaty: What's up? Did your friends get any use out of the stuff I sent you on Rita Skeeter? How are those classes you're so very much more than passing, pardon me while I point and laugh¹? Have you licked the frog this week? Inquiring minds want to know.

Love, Willow

¹ P.S. In a loving way, of course ~~OMG~~! And have I mentioned SATs recently? In the last five minutes, hmm?

( Dear Willow: )
( Dear Xander: )
( Dear Willow: )

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: Room 406, Friday morning

Traditionally? Not the best day for Xander Harris. ~~Not that he was feeling bitter or emo or in any way cribbing from his ex, because that would require reading her bitter emo mind, and Xander lacked that power.~~. Ms. Calendar had done a fine job of reminding him exactly why, yesterday - which hit he'd taken like a very manly man, because yeah. Stupid and Xander are intimately acquainted, and not in the way that means you leave a scarf tied around the door handle to warn your roomie that you and Stupid are gettin' down to some funky scrapbookin' in the room, and she might wanna hit the Common Room for a while. A couple floors away.

Which... sounded like not that bad of an idea, if he actually didn't want to get bitter and emo about his current lack of a partner for any art projects besides the ones in Professor Car's class. Xander shook his head, grabbed his present from the roomie and, after a thoughtful glance at his desk, Jeremiah's tank-handle.

"Come on, pal. Let's go hang out with the other losers. Not that I need cheering up, but you look like you could use the company. You're kinda shading toward indigo there."

Granted, that might've been the result of that last can of amphibi-sticks with the funny black label that said 'Made in Ry'leh, contents may arise from the sunken depths and herald the return of the Great Old Ones. Get a free shub-niggurathling with three proofs of purchase and the soul of your firstborn tadpole.' Or not.

Together, they headed for the 2nd floor Common Room.

Current Mood: attempting to avoid bitterness

Profile

soldtoarmenians

Xander's New Journal

January 2007

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Page Summary

Thursday, Room 121, all day (general goodbye post)
Linkdrop of doom, yet again*
Flamingo A-4, latish Monday evening
Room 121, Thursday Morning
Room 121, Late Monday Morning
E-mailination. As you do.
Flamingo A-4, late Friday evening
Monday evening, late, Flamingo A4
Letter...sort of home
Wednesday Evening
Room 406, Thursday evening
E-mail ahoy
Monday
E-mail. Totally not linkdrop. Seriously. Really. ....Okay linkdrop.
Oh yeah, *that* day.

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Style: Neutral Good for Practicality by timeasmymeasure

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Entries tagged with alanna

Thursday, Room 121, all day (general goodbye post)

Linkdrop of doom, yet again*

Flamingo A-4, latish Monday evening

Room 121, Thursday Morning

Room 121, Late Monday Morning

E-mailination. As you do.

Flamingo A-4, late Friday evening

Monday evening, late, Flamingo A4

Letter...sort of home

Wednesday Evening

Room 406, Thursday evening

E-mail ahoy

Monday

E-mail. Totally not linkdrop. Seriously. Really. ....Okay linkdrop.

Oh yeah, that day.