soldtoarmenians

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


( 'What're you doing over there?' Larry asked... )
[Open for OOC, yaddayadda fishcakes!]

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.]

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]

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 bridge_carson, not open for interaction, but Xander's heading out to flail in other people's posts. NFB due to dorm-sneakiness.]

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*]