Who: Raistlin, Kitiara and Tas What: Christmas Dinner When: Backdated to December Where: Tas and Raistlin's apartment Rating/Warnings Pretty low Status: Complete!
Kitiara still couldn’t wrap her head around how Raistlin and the kender were still living together without Raistlin having throttled Tas in his sleep months ago, but her brother had always had more patience than Kitiara did herself.
Though stepping into the apartment, she supposed it must have had some perks. The apartment was decked out in pure holiday cheer, with tinsel and Christmas lights lining the ceiling and the windows and a Christmas tree in the corner that was - admittedly - beautifully decorated in the corner. It might have been obnoxious, if not for the fact that the smell of Christmas dinner - turkey, stuffing, perogies and cabbage rolls - wafted throughout the apartment and made her stomach growl. Say what she would about Tas, he was a wonderful cook and she was pleased that she’d be able to enjoy a proper Christmas dinner for the first time in years.
“You can put your gifts under the tree!” Tas called cheerfully from the kitchen, and then resumed his hummed rendition of Jingle Bells. Kit’s eyes were drawn to under the tree, where a number of poorly wrapped gifts were piled underneath. She sighed. No doubt Tas had just wrapped whatever useless junk he’d managed to get his little hands on and was going to attempt to pass them off as gifts, but she still added the two small parcels she’d brought with her to the stack.
It wasn’t really patience that kept Raistlin from wringing Tas’s neck or setting him on fire, or turning him into something he could lock up in a cage. Oh, make no mistake. The thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. For example, last year when Tas had turned their apartment into a bouncy castle - Raistlin had seriously wanted to punt Tas out the window. At the time Tas was still a full grown man, and Raistlin wasn’t exactly a man of strength. Now Tas was considerably shorter and Raistlin’s health...well it was pretty much shit. That didn’t stop the little fantasies from cropping up every now and then, especially when Raistlin found his laptop in the strangest places. Who the hell put a laptop in a cupboard?!
But, more so than that, there were other reasons in which Tas hadn’t met some sort of unfortunate demise. Reasons Raistlin would never ever admit to anyone, even Kitiara, his closest relative. He would claim, if asked, that he didn’t want to have to explain to Caramon where Tas had taken off to should his twin become curious why Tas hadn’t called him. That would be his claim. And it would be a bold faced lie.
Another year had passed and it was Christmas again. Again Raistlin had declined returning to his hometown to celebrate with his family. Raistlin didn’t really do holidays. Especially ones that required one to be Holly or Jolly, something Raistlin could never fake. It grated on his nerves. The Christmas music in all the stores, the forced-upon Seasonal Tastes, like peppermint flavored coffee creamer, the never ending showings of sappy made-for-TV Christmas movies that dominated the networks and the fucking snow. It was bad enough tolerating that stuff in Orange County, he could just tune out, but at home with his parents and brother and whatever other family members decided to show up who invariably, still believed he and Caramon were six years old and still dressed the same? Not a fucking chance. Raistlin had called this year, though. On his own. Tas hadn’t even had to hand him the phone with Caramon on the other end cheerily (and annoyingly) wishing him a Merry Christmas. No, Raistlin had done that on his own, a little awkwardly. The way his Dreams had ended, he sort of felt as though he should.
As for the state of their apartment, Tas’s decorating, sadly, was lost on Raistlin. It all looked decayed and in a state of entropy. The tree especially looked depressing. It was a skeleton of petrified wood propped in the corner with various this’s and that’s hanging from its bare branches. The lights, twinkling on and off, were especially comical.
Kit didn’t bother hugging Raistlin when she caught sight of him - she might have allowed Caramon to wrap her in a bone-crushing bearhug, and she’d probably even return it with one of her own, though Caramon was now too heavy for Kit to lift up, but she didn’t need to bother with that kind of affection with Raistlin. Raistlin and Kitiara knew how they felt about each other, and they didn’t need to flaunt it.
Instead, Kitiara went straight for the couch to sit down on, but no sooner had her butt hit the cushions before she was back on her feet again with an oath. She pulled the pair of scissors out of the couch, and even managed to restrain herself enough to not throw them at the kenders face when he came out of the kitchen asking how a pair of scissors managed to find themselves in the couch.
“Merry Christmas, brother,” Kitiara said cheerily after she’d put the scissors down on the coffee table. “I have to say, your new apartment is much nicer than the old one you had. Though I’m not sure why you haven’t used your skills yet to get one nicer.”
“Merry Christmas,” Raistlin answered. Absently, he picked up the rogue pair of scissors. Out of habit mostly. He placed them back where they belonged - a drawer, though it probably wouldn’t be long before Raistlin found them again in an equally inappropriate spot as the couch cushions. “My skills?” He raised a brow as he turned back towards his sister. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I suppose I could have,” he agreed. “However, any place that doesn’t have a constant phantom smell of wet-dog, or a neighbor across the way who takes in half the stray cats in the county is considered ‘nicer’, dear sister.”
Kitiara gave a bark of laughter as she leaned back on the couch, planting her feet on the coffee table. “Isn’t that the truth. I can’t believe you got stuck with such a shit-hole for an entire year.” Luckily, a year that Kit had mostly managed to avoid.
“I’m going to miss the cat lady,” Tas sighed wistfully from the kitchen. He gave one last stir of the gravy, hopped off of the stepladder he kept near the stove, and cheerfully announced “Supper’s ready! Just come in and serve yourself!”
Truthfully, Tas and Raistlin’d had the opportunity to move out of the apartment when their six month lease had run the first time, but Tas had gone ahead and renewed their lease for another six months, somehow managing to forge Raistlin’s signature. Again. And yes, Raistlin had been rather furious about that, however, by that time the crumbling apartment and it’s constant mystery smell of wet animal fur, peeling paint and cracked ceilings had kind of grown on him.
The only thing that hadn’t grown on him, and ultimately made Raistlin want to move, were their neighbors. Tas got along fine with Hilda the crazy cat-lady across the hall, but she never warmed up to Raistlin the same way. Honestly, that was fine with him, he didn’t much care for her and her bizarre ramblings either. The walls of the apartment building had been paper thin and Raistlin could hear all manner of noises during the night while he worked and studied. Noises that ranged from the obnoxious (stomping or vacuum cleaners running at 1am) to the unsettling (strange creaking within the walls at 2 am) to the downright terrifying (a blood curdling scream at 3 am). So when the opportunity arose for Tas and Raistlin to move into a nicer apartment in a somewhat nicer part of town the same time their lease was coming to another end, Raistlin hadn’t even given Tas the chance to argue.
“You would miss a rabid dog if it had showed the slightest interest in you,” Raistlin informed Tas over his shoulder. He got to his feet, but let Kitiara and Tas have first go at the meal. Between Tas and Isabela’s regular gentle (and at times not so gentle) reminders to eat a fucking sandwich, he hadn’t lost any more weight, which was good. Still, he didn’t eat very much and his helping was fairly small that evening.
“Are you saying we should get a dog? Because I think a dog would be a great idea!” Tas said, and then began to yammer on about their future dog as he dug into his plate of food.
Kit promptly tuned him out as she dug into her own heaping plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. She frowned a little at Raistlin’s plate. He’d never eaten as much as his siblings, but that didn’t mean that Kit was particularly pleased about it. She knew that Raistlin would never be as big or as strong as Caramon, but that didn’t mean he had to work so hard at remaining skin and bones. Without saying anything, she quietly scrapped some of her potatoes onto his plate before returning to stuffing her own mouth. “We should eat quickly,” Kitiara said cheerily, absently waving a turkey leg. “I can’t wait to give you your gift, little brother.”
“I am not saying we should get a dog,” Raistlin growled back at Tas, but his words didn’t even penetrate the stream of consciousness about this dog Tas had made up in his head. Raistlin sighed and rolled his eyes. He could only hope that Tas would have forgotten the fantasy by this time tomorrow in favor of something else completely unrelated. The last thing he wanted to do was walk into their apartment and find someone’s beloved hound in their living room with Tas declaring ”He followed me home, Raist!”
See, it wasn’t the principle about owning a dog that Raistlin objected to. He actually rather liked dogs. They were loyal and looked at you without any sort of judgment. They listened without comment and only interrupted to be fed or go out for walkies. That being said, the last thing Raistlin wanted was some irate dog owner to show up at their door insisting Tas had taken their beloved pooch.
Raistlin’s eyeroll settled on his plate just in time to see a mound of potatoes where a mound had not been previously and Kitiara’s fork moving from his general area back to her own plate. Raistlin’s disgruntled frown was turned towards his sister. That trick hadn’t worked when he’d been eight, it certainly wasn’t going to work now. “We’d eat quicker if you didn’t pawn your potatoes off on me.”
“You’ve got to eat more than that,” Kitiara scolded him. “How are you supposed to defend yourself if you’re all skin and bones?” Well, there was his magic, but as much as she was getting used to the idea of magic, she still didn’t entirely trust it.
Raistlin looked at her darkly. “If I thought I was capable of eating more, I would have gotten more.” She sounded like their mother, though Raistlin didn’t dare say so. That was a wound even he knew better than to poke at. “I’m not a fighter, Kitiara. I never have been. I thought that had been established when we were kids.” It was a point that had also been driven home earlier that year when that strange fog had rolled through town and had, without explanation, robbed Raistlin of his magic. He’d wielded a knife somewhat effectively enough, though had ended the altercation on his ass while a vampire had literally chewed through their monstrous assailant. Kit did not need to know that. “I have my magic, and that is enough. You’ve seen it yourself.”
Kit gave an exasperated sigh. “I know,” she said. “I’d feel better if you could just throw a proper punch for once.” Still, it was probably too much to ask for. Especially since he did have his magic now, and as little as Kitiara trusted it, she had to admit that it was fairly effective.
“But it’s okay, Kit,” Tas said, as Kitiara dug ravenously into her food. “After all, he has us to punch anyone who he can’t just magic into a frog.” He ignored Kitiara’s incredulous snort at the idea of the miniature sized Tas punching anyone. “And Isabela too! Do you know Isabela? I think you’d like her,” Kitiara managed a short nod in response, before Tas carried on, not really waiting for a real answer. “In fact, I think Raistlin probably has a lot of friends who can punch people for him!”
The look Raistlin gave Kit said: Yes, listen to the Kender. Sometimes he does actually know what he’s talking about which was immediately followed by a snort when Tas added that he had a lot of friends who would punch people for him. Sure, he could probably count on Bela to come to his defense (though the pirate as more apt to knife someone than punch them in Raistlin’s opinion), but one person was far from a lot. Most of the people Raistlin knew, he knew in passing. Also, the idea of Regina Mills punching someone was rather amusing.
Raistlin recovered and reached for his beverage, but did not sip it just yet. “Don’t worry about me, Kit.” He said, his eyes sliding in her direction. “I can actually throw a punch if necessary. You did teach me. I just prefer not to.”
Kitiara likewise had problems picturing Raistlin with a lot of friends, but she was aware that Raistlin had managed to come out of his shell a little since he’d finally left Caramon’s oversized shadow, but that didn’t stop Tas from rambling on. Somehow he’d used Raistlin’s punch-friendly friends to transition into talking about his dreams. They involved Selena and Flint, who Kitiara had yet to meet in her dreams, and Tanis, who she had, a magic bracelet, and a group of satyrs who had either stolen their gear or whose gear had been stolen by Tas, but she didn’t feel like going through the mental gymnastics of figuring out exactly what he was talking about.
But all the talk of magic was making Kit impatient, and her leg started bouncing more and more violently throughout Tas’ story, before she cut him off midsentence.
“Screw it. I can’t wait anymore,” she said impatiently, pulling a velvet bag from her pocket, and realizing only belatedly that maybe she shouldn’t give Raistlin four magical ice stones - small, purple gems that glowed from some power within - in front of the sticky-fingered kender. But there was nothing to do about it now. “Merry Christmas little brother.”
Raistlin was used to Tas’s longwinded stories. He had told such tall tales for as long as the Majere Twins had known him. Back then, it had been easy to dismiss most of what Tas said as fantasy. Since the Dreams had began, however, it had become distinctly harder to tell. The Dreams had also taught Raistlin that there was usually at least some nugget of truth somewhere in Tasslehoff’s ramblings. However, finding that nugget required an awful lot of sifting.
Raistlin eyed the Kender across the table carefully (and maybe a bit wearily) attempting to pick out the nuggets in these particular stories. It was difficult since Raistlin and Tas weren’t Dreaming about the same things any longer and, save for the occasional repeat, Raistlin had stopped. For now. Kit’s leg bouncing wasn’t helping him focus any. The table itself was starting to shake with her movements. He was about to ask her to stop when Kit herself interrupted Tas’s story.
Raistlin watched Kit curiously as she pulled the little velvet pouch from her pocket and hand it to him. With a raised brow, he took the pouch. The moment it was in his hands, the power within had all of his attention. He could feel a power of some kind within. Eagerly and without hesitation, long thin fingers worked the pouch open and retrieved one of those little gem like stones. It was beautiful, even to Raistlin’s cursed eyes, but it wasn’t it's beauty that intrigued Raistlin. It was that power. It was enough to get the Other, who had been relatively dormant since the Dreams had ended, to instantly take notice.
He stared at it intently, in an almost awe. “What are these?” He heard that other voice ask. “Where did you get them, Kitiara?”
Tas had leaned forward to look at the stones, but something in Raistlin’s voice made him stop and he turned to look at him, his brows furrowed together with the wrinkles that often marked the kender. It didn’t quite sound like Raistlin, though that was silly because it was obviously Raistlin speaking with his own mouth.
Kitiara didn’t seem to notice anything though, passing the change in Raistlin’s voice off as excitement at her gift. Well that he should be. “They’re from the Dreams,” Kitiara said, leaning back in her chair, far more relaxed than she had been throughout the rest of the evening. She’d received nine of the stones from her dreams, though she’d only given Raistlin three of them. One she had given to Asami out of some strange compulsion she couldn’t quite explain, and the rest she had hidden in her home for her to decide what to do with once Raistlin told her exactly what it was that she had been given. “I stole them from some fool of a mage during a failed campaign. I thought you might find them interesting.”
“I do,” that voice answered with a marked tone that could be considered excitement being carefully controlled. His eyes were still on the little stone in his hand. He’d had a glamour put on them to hide the golden irises and hourglass shaped pupils - something he didn’t particularly want to have to explain to his co-workers. However, as he was inspecting the stone, they flashed gold and the pupils pinched slightly in the middle.
When he looked up at his sister, though, his eyes were once again blue, and his voice had returned to the normal deep quiet he always spoke in. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught,” he told her. “I take it since you stole them you figured they were worth something. Do you know what they are?”
“Not that lucky,” Kit said, waving a hand as though waving away his concerns. “The mage was a fool. It was really quite simple. I haven’t a clue what they are - in my dreams, I’m on my way home to Solace to bring them to you - but I do know they seem powerful. The mage had secreted them away in a place I’m sure that he thought no one would ever find, and he had used them to rain fire down upon his enemies.” Unfortunately, they hadn’t wiped out the opposing army like he had hoped they would, and Kitiara had cut her losses before being forced to fight in what she knew was a losing battle.
“Can I see them?” Tas piped up cheerfully, now that Raistlin seemed more himself. He held out his little hands eagerly, as though Raistlin would just place the glowing, purple stones there without another thought.
”No.” The voice that spoke was not Raistlin’s. It was forceful and the glare that was shot towards Tas was intense and threatening. Glamoured eyes flashed gold for a moment as if in warning. Then, a breath later, they were normal once again and even Raistlin appeared surprised. He pulled in a breath and shook his head. “No, Tas. I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Then as he pulled himself more together again, added. “And I don’t want to find you in my room trying to look for them either. They won’t be in there.”
His attention was then turned back to his sister. “The mage you took them from used them to rain fire down on his enemies, did he?” Now that was incredibly interesting, and Raistlin was eager to find out more. Unfortunately, he had a growing suspicion that this Other - whatever it was - also wanted to find out more. He did not like the way it had made him snap at Tas. It had felt as though if the Other’d had the capability to, it would have done something extremely unpleasant. It made the man at the table want to shudder.
Tas withdrew his hand quickly before Raistlin decided to do something unpleasant with it. “Oh, where are you planning on keeping them?” Tas asked, not sounding the least bit upset, though there was a slightly wary look in his eyes. Kitiara too was looking at Raistlin with a different light in her eye. Not that she didn’t think he was justified in his vehemence - she made no secret of the fact that she thought Tas was a pest - but she hadn’t expected such a forceful tone to come from her brother’s lips.
“He did,” Kitiara said. “It seemed rather remarkable at the time, though less so if he had something to give a boost to his power. “I have no doubt that he was slightly miffed when he realized they were missing, but by then I was long gone.” She was clearly pleased by the fact. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to hunt her down afterwards, but she had no doubt that she’d evade him or defeat him like she had Lady Matilla all those dream years ago.