soldtoarmenians

( 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!]

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]

The kind on real paper.

( Dear Willow: )

Current Mood: amused
Current Location: heading for town

He'd found the package outside his door when he'd left the lobby on Friday afternoon, but the whole Shirtless Friday thing had kind of distracted Xander from a lot of stuff. Like unpacking half the boxes still scattered around his new room, or doing more than setting the wrapped package on his desk next to Jeremiah's tank.

Now, though, after sprinkling some dried don't-really-wanna-think-about-what-it-used-to-be into Jeremiah's tank, Xander reached for the flat, paper-wrapped package, and, after checking for anything obvious that looked like it might turn him blue or change him into a marmoset, pulled the paper off. ( Within was a framed manuscript page. )

...allergies, man. Totally allergies that made him sniff as he dug into the hardware box that he hadn't yet unpacked into a desk drawer, and found a set of dorm-safe adhesive frame hangers.

After that, though he'd planned on doing some more unpacking, Xander smiled, sat down at his desk, and typed out an ( e-mail: )

__
[ooc - Linkdroppy, not open for interaction. And this, chitlins, is why I usually do linkdrops every day instead of waiting. ZOMGWTFmightaswellberadio. The end.]

Current Location: 121

[aka Linkdrop of Ultimate Lazy, because zomg threads on threads, and am not attempting to weave this into an e-mail or IC format.]

Graduation (Monday the 8th)

Xander was most likely to what? ...Okayfairenoughpossibly. Meanwhile, whoa, ~~Spydaddy~~ Principal Bristow was out in the audience. So was Willow , of course, talking to Isabel, Bridge, some alien-or-demon-guy who kept pointing at Ivanova, and, Xander was fairly sure he should be worried about this, Parker. Oh yeah, there was also some processing, diploma-accepting, giant-gremlin-fighting and partying. As you do. At graduations.

Welcome Party (Tuesday the 9th)

After picking up his new first floor room assignment, Xander ended up meeting someone who said she was Buffy's sister, and breaking his principal-streak, letting Rory know what he knew about her and you-know-who except not that you-know-who, and meeting Bridge's new fellow SPD cadet. ~~And breaking her brain.~~

Unsent letter, written on the back of an Art History handout, in green highlighter ink. Mostly illegible, of course, but this is what Xander thinks it says:

( Deer Willow: )

Current Mood: wee
Current Location: Bridge's room!

Things What Happened To Xander

Shop with...trees.
Common Room with...slime. And facepalming.

Thing What Should Be Making Xander's Ears Burn (but aren't, because not psychic omg)

Something tasteful in the school paper...
Journalistic Integrity includes stalking, yay. Or not.
Whaddya know, someone's dreaming again.

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.

After the Creature Language Mid-term, wherein Blair was acting strange and unbouncy liek whoa, and coming home to Home to 406 wherein Isabel was unhappy about being bouncy liek whoa, Xander was reminded of something he'd heard on the radio last night, and fired up his laptop to do a little ~~shopping~~ totally innocent surfing. Yay 30minutemall.com which totally delivers to Fandom Island, *nodnodnod*.

Luckily it arrived in plenty of time to take to the Common Room with him later that night.

Current Mood: calm

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Entries tagged with chloe

Room 121, Friday, lunchtime

Flamingo A-4, latish Monday evening

Letter...sort of home

Room 121, Saturday evening

On not blowing up the school, and shortly thereafter

Wee-kend YAYYYY

Wednesday

Things of St.-Patrick's--Day-Ness

Thursday afternoon...

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January 2007

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