Kyle pulled his colaur up higher as a sudden gust of wind chilled him all he way to his spine. The Tarpaulin of the main tent could be seen trough the festaval stalls, charitys, games, sosiatys,people came from all over to the festaval, not even the rain could stop that. Joining the crowd of men women and children seated around the stage Kyle felt at home. This was what the winter festaval was all about. The joy of Being together with friends and family. Spotting his friends huddled in a group over in the corner Kyle went to join them. Just as he arrived the mayor took his place upon te podium and as the wind howled outside he gave the speech that he made every year. It ant the exact same speech, he tweeked it a bit, but if you'd heared the speech once or twice you knew it was the same. This was fine but it might drop a few votes for him on the next mayor election.

ooc; i'l start this off nice abd cakm to let you get your charicters. Sorry this took so long, got back gto school and they gave me a moution of homework.

Lewis stood by the roadside and watched the speech being made. He was infuriated by the mayor's absolute disapproval of allowing Lewis to make a speech on how religion is very important during the winter times.
There was too much colour to be had at this festival, and that was that. Too much dancing too.

Griff buttoned up his jacket as the wind picked up. The chilling breeze rocked him to the core. In all the years, he had been here, the weather for the festival was at its worst today.
"Maybe I should of stayed at the U, in the confort of my dorm room," he thought as rubbed his arms for warmth.

Wallace grimly glanced at the mayors speech, hoping that something would mean he'd have to shut up.
He wasn't one for soppy speeches, at least not right now.
He was only here for the fun and the laughter of the festival and its festivities, he doesnt need this guy rambling on about stuff that he wasn't interested in.

Zackwell stood at the air rifle range, aiming carefully; though the mayor was within earshot, he payed little attention. He took his shot and narrowly missed the target. He chuckles to himself and prepares his last shot. As the wind picked up, his coat blustered wildly behind him, causing him to stagger slightly. "I could really use a drink..." He said to himself wearily. He lazily shot from the hip and hit one of the targets. As the range's tender gawked at the shot, Zackwell put the rifle down and strolled off in the direction of the refreshments.
Now holding a warm polystyrene cup of tea, he picked his collar up as the wind blew against his neck. Sipping from his tea, he burns his tongue and swears, frightening a small child nearby. As he hastens his apology, he decides it might be better to go hang around with everybody else listening to the mayor.