Grounds, Saturday morning-ish

[iseewhatyoumean.livejournal.com]

It had been a quiet week for Cassandra. Classes had certainly been interesting, and she felt like she was starting to get a handle on the whole reading thing, but what she really wanted was some undiluted physical exertion.

So this morning she woke up early and pulled out one of her old traning suits from her bag. Black wasn't precisely a stealthy during the day, even with the cloud cover, but it was tight so it didn't snag, and kevlar wouldn't tear if she made a misstep and took a bad fall.

After a few minutes to stretch properly, Cassandra took off. Rooftop running, building climbing, three story drops... It was purely physical and, for Cassandra at least, quite relaxing. Besides, it allowed her to get a feel for the layout of the school from a different sort of angle.

[ooc: Open. Please feel free to mod Cassandra to just about anywhere exterior on the grounds.]

Fifth Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

[scary-jeff.livejournal.com]

After the floor business over the past week, Jeff was mildly terrified to stay in his room too much. However, wandering around was out of the question, as his back still hurt a little, so instead he flopped onto the couch in the common room and went looking for more interesting nature documentaries.

Nana was lying by his feet, chewing on the tips of his shoes. He'd given up on that one.

[ open like a common room usually is ]

Fourth floor common room, Saturday afternoon

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean was out of good lunch food in his little bar fridge in his room so he ventured out to the common room to raid whatever food was there. He found some soup and the makings of a good sandwich, and set about making lunch, humming under his breath.

[ooc: open as common rooms are wont to be]

Room 413: The early hours of Saturday morning

[fh_extras]

It was very early Saturday morning. This was, of course, the perfect time for a little construction work, as anyone who's ever lived near a building site would know.

The constructor in this instance was a troll named Fosse, and he electric slid his mostly silent way into room 413. He was a troll on a mission, and that mission was to put right an act of dog.

With a boom-shakka-lacka he set about fixing the hole in the roof (and by natural progression the floor of 513*) to the strains of we built this city on rock and roll. Where was the music coming from? Who knows, who cares -- it was fitting, and that's all that mattered.

Being a talented troll by nature, it didn't take long before the hole was a mere memory. Being a janitor by trade, he even collected all the sandwich wrappers before dancing his way out of the room.

It was a good thing it was still dark. No one needs to see a lambadaing troll first thing in the morning.

[ooc: just establishy. *I am an unrepentant floormodder.]

Shooting Range, Saturday afternoon

[honoraryphd.livejournal.com]

Feeling that he had one rather mundane skill that he could improve upon in case some of the more insane things he had been warned about might happen, Victor walked down to the shooting range and took his Mauser C96 from the weapon's locker and set himself up for some target practice.

Anyone passing by would see a slight change to the rules.

SAFETY RULES:

· TREAT ALL GUNS AS IF THEY WERE LOADED

· KEEP YOUR FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER UNTIL READY TO FIRE

· BE SURE OF YOUR TARGET AND WHAT’S BEYOND

· ALWAYS WEAR HEARING AND EYE PROTECTION

· NEVER USE ALCOHOL OR DRUGS BEFORE OR WHILE SHOOTING.

· CHECK IN ALL WEAPONS BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE RANGE.

· DO NOT IRRITATE THE MAN WITH THE GUN.

He was in a good mood tonight. That's why he gave the warning.

[OOC: Open as the shooting range tends to be. And don't worry about the sign, Victor's a teddy bear. With a gun.]

Second Floor Common Room; Saturday Night.

[stocksgrrl.livejournal.com]

Turtle was partially bored and Turtle had been sitting in her room, trying to think of even more ways to try to situate herself in a standing where she'd be a good, easy choice for her fellow sophomores to vote in to represent them in the student council. A small rumble from her stomach and a reminder of her sweet tooth had the perfect idea: food, of course! Sweet, to be specific! Cupcakes!

There was one problem. Turtle wasn't exactly much of a cook. Bad cupcakes could have bad results. She considered just going to J,GOB, getting some, and sharing them, but that didn't seem to reflect well on her tenacity. She thought a little harder.

Oh, sure, there were still J,GOB cupcakes there, yes, for those who wouldn't want to wait. But Turtle had also picked up a great many supplies for the opportunity for people to make their own cupcakes to their own tastes, the things scattered all around the kitchen and a ridiculous amount of pans and toppings and everything. Quite a nice spread. And, subtly, a seemingly unfinished "Vote for Turtle" sign placed on the counter, as if Turtle had merely just paused her work for the 'spontaneous' cupcake smörgåsbord.

Now, hopefully some people who could actually make them well would show up. Currently, though, Turtle was trying her hand at ultra-sugar-Pixi-Stix-Gumboreo Cupcakes.


[[ open! come! Make cupcakes! bonus points for exploding ones ]]