soldtoarmenians

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.]

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: )

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.

{Purely for linky historical purposes. NFB, since it's not actual RP, just a summary. And desperately non-narrative again.}

In Shop, Xander did not impress himself with his commando skills but his ass-kicking little sib kind of made up for that lack.

In Magical Theory, there was speculation about vampires and crosses, and unsettling vague references to love spells and the threat of being less vague about them later in the semester.

Back in 406, Isabel clued Xander in to the existence of her not-twin, and Sam dropped by to talk about gremlin bites, the radio, and TA-ing, while politely ignoring Xander's lack of a magic bone.