soldtoarmenians: (sidelong)
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.]
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: (computer)
Dear Buffy: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Buffy: )
Dear Xander: )
__

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

Shaking his head at Willow's reply, Xander sat cross-legged on his bed, still kind of staring blankly at the screen. As you do. And frowning slightly. As you do sometimes.

__
[Door open for guestages. Should any happen by...]
soldtoarmenians: (latin)


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.]

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January 2007

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