chasingangela: (looking down)
Angela had shipped almost all of her stuff home, but it wasn't time to leave for her flight yet. The last of her luggage was stacked just inside the cabin living room. Outside the cabin, she sat on the ground near the campfire, poking at the ashes with a stick and thinking.

Main thought: Goodbyes sucked. And she had let her friends know she was leaving that day, so she had even more to look forward to.

Poke, poke, poke, she went at the fire, as if that could keep her in Fandom.

[OOC: If you think she told you she was leaving, she did.]
chasingangela: (angela is annoyed)
When Angela opened her eyes on Monday, she wished she hadn't.

Actually, she just wanted to go back in time.

It wasn't enough she woke up Saturday convinced she was Joxer. (And Marty thought he was ... Willow? Weird.) She had to go to the roof and talk to Willow (Nadia?) and himself (herself? Tempe?) about it. Then she made some armor and talked to Anders, Chloe (Marty? -- and, gah, had she kind of hit on Chloe?) and some girl Kaylee, who she probably owed an apology. Or flowers. Or both. And then the next morning she had talked to Walter, who thought he was her, and Dawn, who was just herself.

And then she had met Bel, who was Phoebe and Callisto, who had not killed her. Yet.

Suicide by pillow suffication looked like a better option than cooking class. Maybe she should just stay in bed.

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Angela Chase

May 2015

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