In the dead of night a terrible screech is heard as one sideline heckler drags her aluminum folding lawn chair across the metal plate flooring along the outskirts of the battle field? Why are the sidelines metal plated? For the express purpose of creating terrible screeches when people drag in their aluminum folding lawn chairs in which to relax while they heckle from the sidelines, of course.
The aroma of freshly popped pop corn permeates the stagnant air of yet another minor stalemate, as the crowd of invisible on-lookers cast wary sidelong glances at one another in pseudo dread and semi delight of what is yet to unfold...
Unfold you say? Why of course! It will be my pleasure.
She unfolds her chair and positions it with practiced precision just a fraction of an inch beyond the out of bounds protective barrier behind which she can heckle in absolute safety before seating her rather cushy self into the nylon weave of the garishly colored seat...Kayenta signature colors of clashing blue and green, naturally. Despite her diminutive form, the chair obliges to screech out in hideous teeth clenching fashion as her weight causes the support legs to splay apart a bit further upon the metallic surface of the sidelines.
Demon kin scramble about her as she is waited upon hand and foot while she prepares to perform her sacred duty. Reseda hands her a red and white striped bag of popcorn. Moenkopi's delicate fingers cause the bag to ruffle slightly as she reaches inside for a sampling bite. Depositing a warm blossom of the corn within her mouth she munches then utters, "Needs more butter." Her second eldest daughter rushes off to comply with her desire. Orion, Reseda's twin, puts a hot tub of water at her feet, a sprinkling of lavender scented ebsom salts acts as the solute for this most perfect of solutions to ease even the achiest of dragon feet. She pats the young man on the head. "Ah, very nice..." her feet submerge beneath the fluid and into the bath. "...not too hot but just right." Hywel is no where to be seen being much too young for such an excursion and is in the care of his father. Dafydd would not be caught dead out in public let alone at a sporting event for he is much too cool for that. Teenager...go figure.
It is Nayeli who hands her mother the air horn, her right hand supporting the wrist of the left which proffers the device, and then she promptly puts her fingers in her ears as she backs away. However, it is not until Reseda pours a bit more butter onto the popcorn, and another sampling is taken and found to be good, that those sublime fingers, quite coated in this tasty marinade of popped corn all over the world, doth deign to depress the trigger on the air horn.
A deafening blaring cuts through the crowd, just a little attention-getter as it were to herald the first side-line commentary of the match. "More blood! More tears! Booooooo!!! Hiss-Hiss!!!" She clears her throat and hands off the horn to her eldest and murmurs in a motherly tone of voice, "Thank you dear. That was nice." For some odd reason the demon-kin whet their teeth in a slight gnashing fashion upon sand paper at the mention of blood.
Nayeli offers her mother a cup of coffee but she waves it off. "Now dear, you know I don't take cream."