Who: Kitiara, Raistlin and Revy What: Shooting some pool. When: Recently Where: A pool hall Rating/Warning: Criminal activity's mentioned. Status: Complete
Kitiara had always done her best to keep her business life and her family life separate. She’d been living the criminal life for nearly fifteen years now, and it had treated her well. Still, she tended to gloss over the less than legal details of her work when telling stories to her younger brothers. Caramon, of course, believed that she was nothing more than a very successful tattoo artist who had a lot of friends who rode motorcycles. She wasn’t sure if Raistlin believed the same, but he’d never indicated anything different and she intended to keep it that way.
Which meant that old Two Hands and her little brother meeting made Kitiara a little uneasy. Not enough that she was going to kibosh the whole idea though. Revy was mostly retired these days, and she was also smart enough to keep her mouth shut when it came to discussing her old line of work. So other than a small touch of nerves in the pit of her stomach, which she was able to easily ignore, Kit was all smiles and good cheer.
The pool hall kept its lights dim, with a dozen tables lined up in four rows. Some of the pool halls that Kitiara had been to took a minimalist approach as far as cleanliness went, which meant that there was often dust floating lazily in the air, but Kitiara had made sure to pick one that knew how to work a duster. Raistlin had had a concerning cough since Kitiara had moved to the OC, and she had no intention of aggravating it further by subjecting him to a walk through a dust cloud.
“Revy,” Kitiara called out as a greeting, opting to drop Revy’s nickname in the presence of her brother, and she led Raistlin to the table. “Allow me to introduce Raistlin. Raistlin, this is Revy.”
Caramon may have thought that Kitiara was nothing more than an insanely successful tattoo artist, but Raistlin had always had his doubts. Tattooing was an unconventional way to make a living, and Kit was the very definition of unconventional. However, Kitiara liked action and even though tattooing would have provided her with a cornucopia of interesting clients she could live vicariously through, Raistlin very much doubted that would have been enough for his sister.
Of course Raistlin had no inclination what Kitiara was actually doing and to be honest, he figured he was better off not knowing. Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. One thing Raistlin understood was the desire to keep others out of your business. If Kitiara wanted him to know how she made her money, then she would be sure that he knew.
Still, Kitiara wanted him to meet a friend of hers and Raistlin’s curiosity was piqued. Considering their age difference, Raistlin hadn’t known many of his older sister’s friends growing up. He was interested in meeting the people Kitiara chose to surround herself with. All Raistlin knew about the woman was that her name was Revy, a name that seemed to suit her once Raistlin laid eyes on the woman.
“Hello,” he greeted her in his low subdued voice as he reached out to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
At least Kitiara hadn’t referred to her as Rebecca. Otherwise Two Hands would have used her two hands to simultaneously twist her nipple’s to the point of removal, but it was nice to know they were on the same wavelength when it came to keeping certain details veiled in secrecy. Revy didn’t have an interest of airing her dirty laundry as unashamed as she was about it, and she had more respect for her old friend too - Kit practically raised her brothers and if she didn’t want to let them know what a naughty bitch she was, how the fuck was that any of her business?
“Hey,” the ex-con roughly greeted, words carrying a natural rasp. Revy’s perfume was tobacco and sandalwood, and she her edges were jagged like shards of glass while carrying a very subtle air of femininity - there was confidence with a dash of sensuality, with how unafraid she was to wear clothing that left little to the imagination. A top with no sleeves and a view of that flat stomach, and frayed daisy dukes with a zipper that was too stubborn to stay zipped. Her handshake was firm. “Heard good things about you. Your sister gave me my half-sleeve.”
“And what a beautiful half-sleeve it is too,” Kitiara said, eyeing up the sleeve. She had only been tattooing for a couple of years when she’d given Revy her tattoos, but it had come out clean and Revy could wear it like she’d been born for it.
Kitiara glanced over to the bar. “Why don’t you two set up a table, and I’ll grab us drinks. What can I get you guys?”
“Scotch,” Raistlin said without a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t drink in his Dreams aside from water and tea that tasted like mud, dirt and other things tea should not taste like. There were times Raistlin woke up in the morning with it still in his mouth and no amount of teeth brushing or gargling was able to get rid of it. Here in Orange County, scotch was his drink of choice. It seemed to do the trick to keep that annoying cough that was slowly turning into a hack at bay and tasted a thousand times better.
Icey blue eyes eyed the half-sleeve on Revy’s arm. Though Raistlin had very little to compare it to - tattoos never really ever being on his radar - it was good work. A piece of art, really. If this was the type of work Kitiara did daily than perhaps it was possible that she really did make her living just tattooing people. Pff. Raistlin still didn’t believe that.
Those ice blues made their way from Revy’s arm over the rest of her, he did not hide the fact that he was sizing the other woman up. The victim of schoolyard bullying, it was second nature for Raistlin, even as a full-grown adult, to take stock in someone he was meeting for the first time, deciding how much of a threat they could possibly pose in the future. Revy was a tough one. She could have easily broken him in half if she wanted to. A smirk played at the corners of his lips.
All in all, Revy seemed like a good fit for Kitiara and his sister seemed fond of her. That alone spoke volumes. Kit wasn’t fond of a lot of people. Revy intrigued Raistlin a great deal. As did whatever “good things” Kit had said about him.
“Kitiara doesn’t usually say good things about anyone,” he said. “So I’m a little curious about what these things she told you are.”
“Rum,” was Revy’s request when the biker kitten made her offer - sometimes, sometimes she changed it up. To Heineken, maybe, which was her beer of choice but that was as far as she’d stray. She just knew what she liked.
But while the booze was being procured, she prepared the colored balls in the triangle and set it in the center, and got her cue already. “Uh, let’s see - said some shit about how you and your other one are some of the best brothers she could ever ask for?” Most of her relationship with Kitiara had been strictly professional back in the day, and that was before she got locked up in the slammer but, overall, the woman was a solid connection. Tough, reliable, almost with a code of honor. It existed among their kind.
As hard as it was to believe, anyway.
“We knew each other back in New York, your sister and I. Before I did hard time in prison. Guess we’re making up for lost girl times now.”
Flirting with the bartender as Kitiara ordered the drinks - a rum for herself - was second nature by now. Even when the bartender wasn’t especially good looking, a little bit of greasing the wheels usually came with the perks of being the first served when their was a line, and the occasional free drink. For his part, the bartender returned the flirting, no doubt hoping for a fatter tip. But even as she flirted with the bartender, she didn’t keep her eyes from Revy and Raistlin for long.
Kitiara couldn’t do anything as useful as reading lips, but she could read body language and things still seemed friendly enough. Not that she had been expecting problems, but she was always vigilant.
Kitiara returned with the drinks, the two old-fashioned glasses of rum in one hand and Raistlin’s scotch in another, in time to hear Revy’s last statement. “And I just can’t express how happy I am that Revy’s out now. We do have a lot to catch up on,” Kitiara said, offering the glasses to her companions.
Raistlin had no idea what the hell “girl time” was, really, but if popular culture was anything to go by, it didn’t seem like a thing either woman would be particularly interested in. The fact that Revy had served time in prison reinforced Raistlin’s assumptions that Kitiara would never be content with what most would consider a “normal” life with a “normal” career. Did he want to know what it was she did with her time? Not especially. Kit’s business was her own, but her connection with Revy, who openly admitted she’d been in prison, was intriguing and worth further observation.
What really sort of surprised him, however, was that rough and tumble Kitiara as out there singing the praises of both he and his twin. It was true that out of their family Kit really was the only one Raistlin had the most in common and could identify the most with, but he had never once assumed that his connection with her was at any time a two way street. Then again, she had shown up at his door after hearing some of the stories Tas had been telling Caramon.
“Yes, well…” Raistlin shrugged his lean shoulders. Clearly uncomfortable with this bit of information, Raistlin really didn’t know how to react and was thankful once Kitiara rejoined them, drinks in hand.
“Someone’s bashful,” Revy gave a rough chuckle, taking her poison of choice from Kit’s benevolent hands. The taste of cinnamon and caramel was in it, after that initial burn on her tongue. Raistlin didn’t seem like a man of many words - she could respect that.
She grabbed a stool to occupy, holding the pool cue between her knees. “You two dream of the same bullshit, though? You’re not going to start throwing fire like a wizard, are you, Kit?”
Kitiara glanced between Raistlin and Revy, sure that she had missed something but not entirely sure what. With a barely perceivable shrug of her shoulders, Kitiara took a sip of her alcohol and made her way to the table to break. “Apparently,” Kitiara said, a note of irritation creeping into her voice. “At least, we dream of the same world. I seem to be a little behind with the action though. But no, magic is entirely Raistlin’s domain. Caramon and I are more of the rough-and-tumble, stick-a-sword-in-you types.”
“Apparently whatever power is in control of the Dreams decided to have Kit start further back in the past, when we were kids,” Raistlin added. “It’s a bit odd, though.” He glanced at his sister as she leaned over the table to break. “She hasn’t appeared in my Dreams yet. Except for once, and I’m unsure if it was actually her or some kind of hallucination.” Raistlin was leaning towards the hallucination option. Kit had ceased to be a part of their party when she had broken her oath and he was convinced it was Tanis’s utter inability to choose a good mate for himself that had summoned her to the wood while the lot of them had been essentially tripping balls.
“Misery loves company, don’t it? It’s good you two share the shit,” Revy shrugged. Otherwise it’d get lonely, and it was a feeling she wasn’t proud to admit - to miss people she dreamt of, to wish they were here, to have someone that understood the clusterfuck that was Roanupar. Dutch, Benny. Fuck, she’d even take Eda.
Rock, though. Two Hands would kill for him in a heartbeat.
The glass was brought in proximity to her mouth again, golden stare pinned on the two siblings. “Magic’s a common thing around here. I’ve got a friend trying to teach me the basics, but all things considered brute force is my ol’ reliable.”
“I suppose I should be flattered that you miss me so much that you’d hallucinate me,” Kitiara said, winking. “But I have to say, it is a real bore that I haven’t dreamed of anything exciting like a dragon war like my dear brother has.” Things were getting a little lively in her dreams, but it still didn’t seem nearly as exciting as what Tas and Raistlin spoke of.
“I’ve personally never had any interest in any of that magic business,” Kitiara said with a shrug of her shoulder. “I knew Raistlin would excell at it, but I don’t have the patience to sit in front of a spell book and memorize spells. The only studying I ever needed in the dreams was with a sword.” Even here she’d dropped out of high school at sixteen, though she had threatened that she’d kick her brothers’ asses if they followed her example.
“In a place like this, that’s not a bad idea,” Raistlin said with a half shrug. “There’s magic everywhere and a great deal of different kinds of magic to learn.” Raistlin was not limiting himself to just the magic spells and whatnot from his Dreams. Granted some of the other types were a little harder to grasp, which Raistlin believed to be because they were not from his Dream world. Nevertheless, Raistlin relished the challenge. He had a practically unquenchable thirst for knowledge, nevermind that learning other types of magic was damn fascinating.
But...it wasn’t for everyone. Raistlin understood that. Just like chemistry or science over all wasn’t for everyone. He smirked faintly at the idea of Kitiara attempting to sit still long enough and focus her attention on a spell book for any length of time. Although, hearing his passion referred to as dismissively as “magic business” was slightly annoying, Raistlin brushed it off as Kit just being Kit.
“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” he told his sister. “My honest opinion is that you were present in the wood with us because a certain someone can’t seem to get you out of his head.” No spoilers. At least not until the time was right.
“Yeah, ain’t nobody got time for a bunch of musty old books,” she huffed in agreement, pulling out a crinkled cigarette that got smooshed in her pocket but fuck it, she’d smoke it all anyway - it’d never go to waste. Revy lit it, then canted her head up away from the two to exhale the first smog of potential cancer. “I’m still trying to figure out algebra and why the fuck I’m supposed to need it in my life.”
GED preparation blew, and she was starting from the ground up when it came to the education. The basics were down, but everything on a high school level? Uh. What? Why the fuck even? “If you’ve got the brains for it, hats off to you.”
Well that was intriguing. And would explain how Raistlin knew that she wasn’t going to go through with the marriage. They hadn’t even made it to Patric’s homeland before she found out that it was very likely he was going to rescind his proposal. He’d been murdered before he had the chance, not by Kit, though she wasn’t the least upset about that turn of events.
“I don’t know what’s not flattering about that, little brother,” Kitiara said. “Though, I do have that effect on plenty of men.”
Kitiara laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever used algebra in my life. Or trigonometry for that matter. I can’t think of a single situation where I’d need to know how to figure out how long a side of a triangle is.” Trigonometry was about the part where Kitiara had decided she had enough and dropped out of high school all together. She didn’t need a piece of paper to prove to people that she was intelligent. Nor was one required by any of her professional endeavours.
Raistlin rolled his eyes. Not exactly a subtle gesture, really, and one Kitiara had seen plenty of times when the two were still living together as children. Yes, Kitiara did seem to have a certain effect on men, although has her brother, Raistlin didn’t really understand it. Especially Tanis. Raistlin hadn’t had a Dream with the two of them in the same room as of yet, and he was fairly certain if the Kit of Krynn was anything like the Kit of here, she’d tear him apart. Perhaps that was what Tanis liked about her. Tanis’s taste in women was absolutely baffling.
Raistlin didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation about the practical applications of trigonometry and algebra to everyday life. The two of them were right, of course. One really didn’t need either in order to live a fulfilling and meaningful life and Raistlin wasn’t one of those sciencey types that thought complicated math was fun. “Math is a tool,” he said as he leaned over to take his shot. “You use it to get an end result.” clack. Ten ball right into the corner pocket. “Numbers are reliable,” he said straightening his lean form again. “Numbers are concrete and unchanging. One plus one will always equal two. In a world full of chaos and uncertainty, that can be a comforting notion.”
“Well, shit,” Revy mumbled. “That’s philosophical of you.” Only numbers she ever personally cared about was money - those dollar signs were comforting on their own, made the world go ‘round and ‘round and that was a universal law no matter what the hippies thought. “Money’s the only time I fuck with numbers.”
But anyway, her turn. She leaned forward, pool cue positioned, butt wiggling as she calculated the jab at the ball and there was here own clack, balls versus balls. Just a dispersion of colors, sadly, nothing in the nets, and she pulled the cigarette from the corner of her mouth. “Gonna guess you’re the smart one in the family? Kit’s just the tits.”
“And sometimes, numbers are letters,” Kit said with a bit of a smirk at her brother. She knew that the letters were just stand in for the numbers, but that didn’t make it any less confusing when she looked at it. She could calculate the profits from a shipment of arms in seconds, but she hardly considered that math.
Kitiara took the pool cue and calculated her shot. One leg still on the floor, Kit sat on the edge of the table and took a shot from behind her back. “Nicest tits in the family,” she said, winking at Revy. “I’d say Raistlin is certainly the smart one in the family, though I have my fair share of brains.” Something her other brother seemed to lack most of the time. But she supposed not everyone in the family could be blessed with brains and beauty.
Kit was more than just tits as far as Raistlin was concerned. The comment elicited something of a scowl from him until he realized that Revy was probably joking. “Kit practically raised both me and my brother, so I would say she’s more intelligent than I beleive she gives herself credit for. She certainly has the street smarts that I lack.” Like being able to tell when someone was making a tit-joke or not.
It was his turn to shoot again. The balls were quickly disappearing off the table as the three of them chatted. The remaining shots were becoming fewer and fewer. Raistlin lined up the one he wanted. There was no fancy behind the back shots or bum wiggling here, thank you.
It was just a joke, Raistlin, keep your big boy pants from riding up that tight little asshole there. Revy smirked, however, detecting the little bit of protectiveness from Raistlin to Kit - how fuckin’ cute. A goddamn miracle they her brothers didn’t seem to be in the know about her very questionable activities, though - props to the sister-turned-mother keeping her business away from family. Most couldn’t.
“I’ll let you two keep bonding with balls for a minute. Need to go on a second run here,” she brought up, shaking the bit of ice in her otherwise empty glass. “Gonna get you two some shots to guzzle down too. I’m gonna get the both of you wasted and cream you.”
Kitiara gave Raistlin a fond smile. He never was very good at taking a joke, but she appreciated the vote of confidence. And if people just wanted to look at her as a great pair of tits and ass, Kitiara wasn’t about to disabuse them of the notion. It was much easier to get what she wanted when people underestimated her abilities to take it.
“If you want to get me drunk enough to beat me at pool, be my guest. It’s your wallet.”
If Revy ever actually said Raistlin’s protectiveness over his sister was cute, he would have adamantly denied it. Raistlin didn’t do cute. Protective? Sure, on occasion when he felt it was necessary, but never cute. However, he was willing to admit that him being protective of Kit was laughable. It had been Kit, after all, who had saved Raistlin’s bony ass more times than he could remember.
He glanced at Kitiara and caught her looking at him fondly. Regardless if he’d misinterpreted Revy’s joke (which he had, he’d admit), it seemed as though Kit appreciated what he’d said about her. Raistlin also didn’t do fond very well either. “What?” He asked her with a shrug. “It’s true.”
And Big Boy Pants up his ass or not, Raistlin actually rather liked Revy. She said what was on her mind, consequences be damned and Raistlin respected that. His attention moved back to Revy and the ice clinking in her glass. He hadn’t even seen her glug it down. Ice blue turned towards his own half-empty glass. He had been more focused on their game and their conversation than he had on his drink and had actually forgotten it was there. Raistlin could drink without a problem, even hold his liquor fairly well, but he doubted very much that he’d be able to keep up with either Revy or Kit. However, if Revy was willing to keep buying the rounds, then Raistlin wasn’t going to stop her.