fandomhigh | Fandom High Graduation Ceremony Class of 2006

[OOC: This post is open for slow-play. Take your time and please remember that this is all about the seniors!]

As the sun disappeared below the horizon on Monday evening, large, bright lights came on, illuminating the front lawn of Fandom High. There was a stage area with several chairs for the administration and special guests, as well as a podium and microphone. On the grass in front of the stage are rows and rows of chairs for parents, guardians, siblings and friends of the graduating seniors, as well as enough chairs for any faculty, townies and students who decide to attend. There is an aisle free down the middle and reserved seats in the front row for the graduating seniors.

All in all, the place looks fantastic decked out in blue and gold thanks to the efforts of the freshmen on the graduation committee.

Oh yes. Then there's the inflatable gremlin filled with helium off to the side that's the size of the building. It looks kind of cute, actually, just floating there while tied to the ground.

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"Or lime green," Angel agreed.

"And this blue's dark enough to blend in with shadows," Callisto said. "So you can still brood in them later."

"Very good point," Angel said. "I suppose I shouldn't complain much anyway. At least this isn't outside during the day."

"I'd be making some serious complaints if it was," Callisto said. "Since it's bad form to kill members of the graduating class."

"It's nice to know that if I got all dusty you'd be cranky about it." Angel started to lean over to give her a smooch on the cheek, then remembered Twanky was in the audience. He settled for giving her a smile.

Callisto returned the smile, shooting a quick glare in Twanky's direction.

Twanky, for her part, continued glaring at Angel and muttering darkly.

Willow took ~~ten~~ a few pictures of Angel being fidgety and waved to him from her seat.

Twanky looked across at Willow. "Do you know that young man?"

"Young?" Willow started giggling, then tried to compose herself. "Yes, er, well, sort of. I know another him, but I hugged this one when he needed to get better, so I think it's okay if I take some pictures of him graduating. Don't you?" She looked worried, then remembered her manners. "Who are you here to see graduate?"

"Callisto, the young lass next to him," Twanky glared suspicously at Angel. "Are you saying he is not what he appears to be?"

"She's very blonde and warrior-looking," Willow noted, unsurprised, then heard the rest of the question. Oops. Insert foot to hip and swallow. Unfortunately, Willow's default reaction was set to babble. "Oh, Angel? He's everything he appears to be. Yep." She nodded vigorously. "What you see is what you get. No hidden secrets there--he's an open book. Like the lending library of Angel. Free and open to everybody."

"So he is a man of loose and fleeting affection!" Twanky sounded scandalised. "The scoundrel!"

"Loose and fleeting affection?" Willow squeaked, "No, not at all! He's completely devoted and thinks about the object of his affections constantly! Honest!"

"And an obsessive stalker!" Twanky fanned herself. "Oh my."

Willow 'eeped' audibly. "No! Not a stalker!" Although, now that she thought about it. Hmm. She shook her head, then gave a quick accompanying flail. "No, definitely not a stalker. He thinks about the object of his affections the exactly right non-creepy amount!"

"Thinking of ways to get her alone to take advantage of her vunerable state!" Twanky fanned herself "Using his years to experience to convince her to fufill his every unspeakable lust. Sweating, pounding, grinding...Hold me!"

With that Widow Twanky swooned.

Willow, who had been struck mute by the idea of Angel being all lustified, suddenly had her arms full of passed out Widow Twanky. Who, in addition to not being a spring chicken, was also no feather mattress. Or something else with a bird theme.

"Help? Help, help, help." She glanced around for assistance, since she couldn't get to her wand. "Anyone? Meep."

[ooc: Night!]

"Try singing show tunes," Marty suggested from his seat. "She did this on Parents Weekend and she snapped right out of it.

"Singing? In front of people?" Willow glanced down at the older woman in her lap. "Maybe it's not so bad, having her like this...."

From where she's sitting, and silently mocking, Jaye calls, "Push her. You don't have to do it hard, just a little shove."

Willow turned around, "I can't push her! She's old, and, and, and, she swooned when she thought of Angel being all lustinated!"

There was flailing.

"She might be crazy," Jaye suggests. "What if she's got some contagious crazy disease?"

"Then I've got it already?" Willow looked down at her lap in horror. "She was saying the strangest things...maybe we should signal the blonde who's up there next to Angel for help?"

"Oh, that would be amusing, but you should probably save that for after she's graduminicated," says Jaye, and imitates a little shove. "Come on, she's old, she'll go down easy."

Re: The Procession

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