[Canada is wearing a enormous smile and a loose red tam on her head, as much of her hair as possible tucked up under it. The latter can be blamed on the fact that her hair isn't exactly hair right now, thanks to her morning excursion past the usual borders of the gardens. She's not about to share what happened there, but every so often when she adjusts her hat, a leaf will sneak out from under it and have to be tucked it, else it flutters down her back to the ground.
The source of her smile, though, is behind her on the vine's focus. She's made an ice rink out of magic dirt. It's self-contained, so even in the heat of the Garden's summer, inside the air is crisp and the ice is frozen solid. It's of 1968 Winter Olympic hockey standards (look who made it and say if you honestly expected anything less) which means appropriate markings on the ice and a few convenient boxes just when you step off. Along one side is a set of bleachers, only four rows high, but with enough space to seat just about everyone in the Gardens, should it ever come to that. At one end of the building is a set of changing rooms and a room entirely filled with skates and hockey equipment.
Because this is the Gardens, though, the ice is tinted a rosy shade of pink and she can't quite figure out how to make the cheesy love songs stop playing. It's a small price to pay to have somewhere to skate, though. At least in Canada's opinion.]
Hey! I just wanted to tell you that I made this new ice rink for everyone to use, i-if they wanted to. It's down here by the ruins and even if you don't know how to skate, there's plenty of equipment and I wouldn't mind teaching people how to. And, oh, if anyone's interested in learning how to play hockey, we could do that, as well! It's pretty well the best sport ever and I promise you won't dislike it.
Unless you learn from America. She almost always loses. [Look at how sweet and innocent this face is. This is pure sisterly affection, of course.
But seriously, take hockey lessons from the Canadian. Even Russia sucks nearly as much as America.]
The source of her smile, though, is behind her on the vine's focus. She's made an ice rink out of magic dirt. It's self-contained, so even in the heat of the Garden's summer, inside the air is crisp and the ice is frozen solid. It's of 1968 Winter Olympic hockey standards (look who made it and say if you honestly expected anything less) which means appropriate markings on the ice and a few convenient boxes just when you step off. Along one side is a set of bleachers, only four rows high, but with enough space to seat just about everyone in the Gardens, should it ever come to that. At one end of the building is a set of changing rooms and a room entirely filled with skates and hockey equipment.
Because this is the Gardens, though, the ice is tinted a rosy shade of pink and she can't quite figure out how to make the cheesy love songs stop playing. It's a small price to pay to have somewhere to skate, though. At least in Canada's opinion.]
Hey! I just wanted to tell you that I made this new ice rink for everyone to use, i-if they wanted to. It's down here by the ruins and even if you don't know how to skate, there's plenty of equipment and I wouldn't mind teaching people how to. And, oh, if anyone's interested in learning how to play hockey, we could do that, as well! It's pretty well the best sport ever and I promise you won't dislike it.
Unless you learn from America. She almost always loses. [Look at how sweet and innocent this face is. This is pure sisterly affection, of course.
But seriously, take hockey lessons from the Canadian. Even Russia sucks nearly as much as America.]
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