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 Posted: Sun Feb 13, 2011 12:02 am
Out of the way of the buildings of the 8th division, a large field has been blanketed with a thick layer of fresh snow. Placed randomly around of this area rise various sizes of clear ice blocks, perfect for carving or whatever else someone dreams up. Hanging from one such piece of ice, towering 25 feet in the air is a huge white banner. “Winter Wars” written across the white cloth in black ink, announcing the title of this event. Off to a very far edge of this area is an large ice luge, made up of five different ramps to chill various drinks as they pass down the icy structure on the table with cups. Next to the table is large array of chests filled to the brim with all sorts of drinks, ranging from fruit juice to some of the strongest alcohol available. At this table stands a single man who will be offering the option to have your drink further chilled by the ice luge to visitors to this place. Today will begin the frozen event while time still remains before spring brings an end to this event. As large white clouds occasionally try to mask the noon sunlight, the various festivities begin now!
No dress code for this event (though semi-warm clothing is probably suggested). Any and everyone is welcome to join in on the fun.
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Posted: Sun Feb 13, 2011 2:31 pm
The snow made soft crunching sounds as black and gray boots left Touoku's trail behind him as he proceeded to walk up to the large snow field ringed in random ice blocks. The white slacks with gray seaming and matching hooded coat seemed to be serving him well so far. With his hand, warm inside the black sued glove, he pulled back the hood off of his head, revealing his messy green hair with recently added black streaks. His zanpakutou was tied to a long black cord at both ends of the sheath and held diagonally across his back while another shorter cord tied the tsuba of the katana to the first cord, keeping the weapon from being drawn easily. The white fog from his pleased sigh masked his face, more flushed than normal, for a single moment before losing it's heat and becoming clear like the rest of the air today. As his first time ever in snow, the captain was anxious for fun to begin soon.
“I guess it is a good thing I am first this time. Lets me scout out the playing field once more before hand.” He spoke to himself, already thinking about all of the perfectly round snowballs he would have to create soon to throw at people today. He was appalled at the idea of throwing an imperfect snowball, the idea was out of the question for someone like him who valued the artistic qualities of everything he did. Perfection was beauty, thus as a self proclaimed artist, he must make everything he does beautiful. He crouched down and scooped up some snow with one hand and began trying to form a perfect sphere out of the snow. The snow was easy enough to mold, but the ideal shape sought by the captain was nearly impossible to create thanks to his thick gloves encumbering his hand movements.
“Tch, guess these will have to go.” He said dropping the oval-esque lump in his hands back to the ground before pulling off the soft gloves. The freezing air on his palms compelled him to rub them together a few times before attempting once more at the creation of the perfect snowball. His fingers were now able to create the absolutely round and spherical mound of compacted snow he had been desiring for some time now. Glancing around in a display of overly displayed seedy attitude, Touoku checked the area for any new arrivals, none had come yet. He then jumped up from his squatting position, his prize in hand, the snowball of perfection. However, his moment of victory was soon cut short as his landing caused him to slip and start to fall backwards. Instinctively he let go of the snowball, not wishing to crush one of his masterpieces. As he landed flat on his back he soon realized that the snowball was doomed to fall... this time right on his face. As the white orb splattered on contact with his nose, the ice crystals scattered about his entire head and got into the the collar of his jacket, chilling his neck as he sighed momentary defeat.
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