wesleynotponcy: (neg: slumped messy room)
So it was possible that Wesley's room was a tad bit untidy today and this was apparently a theme today, but this time it wasn't Alex's fault. Or at least, not entirely. Today's mess had something to do with the fact that Wesley was sitting on the floor, with papers strewn everywhere as he researched... a hotel.

Yes, he felt a bit silly about it himself, but it was what Angel had asked him to work on. So.

"A two hundred and forty-year old vampire with a soul with an interest in real estate," he murmured to himself, poring over an ownership deed that Cordelia had faxed over after being unable to make heads or tails of it. "Honestly."

[[open! good god, i haven't roomposted this one in forever, oops.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: wait wut)
So Wesley had books. Lots of books. And they were... interesting.

By interesting, he meant that they made him blush pretty much constantly. They were that kind of books.

"She'd like that?" he wondered at one point, copying over a particularly surprising passage into his notebook. "How would I even -- " He turned the page, revealing a diagram. "Oh. Oh."

Yeah. Totally blushing.

[[Open door and post, expecting one. I'm a jerk.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: curious)
It was something Wesley had been thinking about ever since they'd arrived here. He knew, of course, that the Council had been stationed in Britain for centuries, but somehow he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to actually go until today. What do you know, Anakin -- turns out Try Not To Die class was inspiring.

Even knowing it was somewhere in London, he hadn't quite expected to find the exact same building in the exact same place that it had always been. The Watchers' Academy had been located in Southern Hampshire, but trips down to Council headquarters had been mandatory and frequent enough for him to find his way now, even without many of the usual landmarks to guide him. And there it was, that big stone building where he'd spent so much of his childhood.

It looked... neater now. The building itself couldn't be too old, he realized, reaching out to touch the stone wall with the back of his hand. He wondered if perhaps -- but no, there was always security stationed inside. Although perhaps since this was so much earlier...

Glancing around him, he slipped inside.

[[Mainly because omg I haaaad to. Open for calls/texts/whathaveyou, and NFB, please!]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: wait wut)
Wesley was pretty much the most boring person ever, because instead of whinging about how unfortunate it was that spring break was over and he was no longer in Hawaii, he was on his laptop, researching demons. It was weird -- a few cities had records of some interesting attacks all in a row, creating a trail to -- hmm. Right to Los Angeles.

Because he had been back in Fandom for a grand total of one hour, he decided that the best way to spend his evening was tracking this thing. He created a little fort around him of books and promptly dissolved into research-mode.

[[establishy for "Parting Gifts," but you're welcome to come and bug him!]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: curious)
Today Wesley was in his room and he was not reading, for a change. Well, not books, anyway. Actually, he was using his computer to check on local accidents and deaths in the Los Angeles area, because he was just obsessive like that. There didn't seem to be anything that screamed "demon," but it was well-established by this point that he was a very poor judge of paranormal happenings, if his visit to LA was any indication.

He stepped up his game and started to look through some of the message boards that, although he was fairly positive that they were crap, still occasionally presented some interesting information. One of the trending topics was leprechauns, though. That was discouraging.

Oh, now that was interesting. Reports of the LAPD acting oddly. A few disturbances near headquarters that seemed to suggest mystical influence. And an account saying that some of the cops had been... nice? Well, that was just strange. A spell, certainly.

He then proceeded to refresh the page on several local news sites, checking for news. Then it occured to him that that was probably extremely lame. He continued anyway.

[door is open! a little bit establishy for some Angel s1.]
wesleynotponcy: (Default)
Wesley returned to his cabin after class to discover an elderly British man sitting on his bed.

"Er. Hello," said Wesley. Obviously the Watchers' Council was keeping tabs on him. How wonderful.

When the man responded, it was in a dry, slow voice like that of a professor whose students are always checking to see if he fell asleep between sentences. "Wesley," he said in that irritating buzzing tone. "What is the weakest part of the body of a Kungai demon?"

"The horn," Wesley answered promptly. Lovely. This was some kind of test.

"That is correct, though their eyes are weak points as well," the man informed him. "And when fighting them, one would be advised to lunge forward frequently to distract the beasts with the fast movements."

Wesley was about to reply with something along the lines of "who the hell are you" when he absorbed that last bit. "You've been reading the Gunderson Index of Demons," he said, eyes lighting up. "That's my favorite index!"

"No, Wesley," said the man, who Wesley begun to notice had pale, papery skin, like... paper...

"Have you guessed it?" the man asked, smiling. "You always were bright. Did you know you're the youngest reader I've ever had? Only eleven years old the first time you picked me up. And you've read me more since than any of the old bastards at the Council. You're better off here, I say."

Wes was touched. "Thank you," he said. Then the nerd in him plopped down on the bed next to the book as he began asking a ton of questions all in a rush.

[open to cabinmates!]

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