[Xander] The Fun That Isn't
Who: Xander, anyone else who wants to drop by
When: Day 36, after the rain
Where: Along the beach at Xander's new digs.
Invited: Anyone and everyone.
Status: Closed (been idle for a while, I'm going to end it.)
Xander pushed down with the knife with more care than he had the past couple trys, testament to the makeshift bandage on his left hand. He'd missed a few chops with it, and he knew he was lucky to still have all his fingers.
"Right. In you go-" he positioned the piece of bamboo and shoved, burying it into the hole already dug. He quickly attached it to the rest of the sticks making up his (last!) wall, and let out a long sigh. He'd finished slower than he expected, but it looked a little less charmingly rustic (or, er, you know, pretty crappy), too. Aiming a kick, he let out a shout of victory when the closest pieces only shook slightly, then blushed.
Not quite the vanquishing of the first evil, or even managing to grab the bathroom before it was taken over by fifteen teenage girls, but he was proud all the same. His carpentry experience hadn't totally left him. And, hey, he'd only made a slight fool of himself.
Flopping down onto the sand, he ignored the dampness he could still feel in his jeans from his run in with the storm. The sun was directly above, and ridiculously hot, but he was too filled with the buzz of uneasy knowledge to pay it any attention.
So. Mysterious island and Faith and Willow and livingbreathingohgod Tara. It was like fun that wasn't.
Plus, he was sure he could feel sand in his eye socket. Major ick.
((OOC: Is it glaringly obvious that I know nothing about carpentry or shelter building? Because if it is, just avert your attention to other things. Also, I had some trouble with tense here. I think I fixed it. Oops.))
When: Day 36, after the rain
Where: Along the beach at Xander's new digs.
Invited: Anyone and everyone.
Status: Closed (been idle for a while, I'm going to end it.)
Xander pushed down with the knife with more care than he had the past couple trys, testament to the makeshift bandage on his left hand. He'd missed a few chops with it, and he knew he was lucky to still have all his fingers.
"Right. In you go-" he positioned the piece of bamboo and shoved, burying it into the hole already dug. He quickly attached it to the rest of the sticks making up his (last!) wall, and let out a long sigh. He'd finished slower than he expected, but it looked a little less charmingly rustic (or, er, you know, pretty crappy), too. Aiming a kick, he let out a shout of victory when the closest pieces only shook slightly, then blushed.
Not quite the vanquishing of the first evil, or even managing to grab the bathroom before it was taken over by fifteen teenage girls, but he was proud all the same. His carpentry experience hadn't totally left him. And, hey, he'd only made a slight fool of himself.
Flopping down onto the sand, he ignored the dampness he could still feel in his jeans from his run in with the storm. The sun was directly above, and ridiculously hot, but he was too filled with the buzz of uneasy knowledge to pay it any attention.
So. Mysterious island and Faith and Willow and livingbreathingohgod Tara. It was like fun that wasn't.
Plus, he was sure he could feel sand in his eye socket. Major ick.
((OOC: Is it glaringly obvious that I know nothing about carpentry or shelter building? Because if it is, just avert your attention to other things. Also, I had some trouble with tense here. I think I fixed it. Oops.))