Written for my once-best-friend Laura, because "Be a good girl -keep those boots on!" became an ever-returning joke when we were teenagers.

Disclaimer:

1) I don't own Kit. sob WHY? Why can't I have her? 2) I don't own Crysania. That's no problem. I never liked her anyway. 3) I don't own a dragon. What a pity. 4) I don't own any places on / creatures from Krynn; especially no elves, which is probably a good thing; who knows what disgusting things a pervert like me might do to them?

Warnings: Nonsense

This is my second upload. I found out how it works! Tremble, suffer!

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Kit's Obsession (a slightly out of character/out of plot- and timeline parody of my favourite warrioress ever)

It is the weekly meeting of AAA: Ansalon's Anonymous Addicts. The main room in the Inn of the Last Home is crowded with people and... things from all of Krynn's different races. Even a dragon's head is poking in through one of the windows. A silent corner is occupied by sullen, hooded figures, whose thin, skin-and-bones hands identify them as either elves, walking skeletons or cocaine-addicted supermodels. Running from one guest to the next, giggling little creatures with bouncing topknots are definitely the ones having the most fun on this otherwise serious occasion. The sign "Kender excluded" at the door has not kept them away, naturally. (Curiosity and cleptomania are addictions as well.) Therefore, this congregation is quite noisy business.

The much dismayed looking self-help group's leader -the incredibly disagreeable Lady Crysania, whose secret addiction are magic herbs, which is why she is always having near-suicidal relationships with evil black mages- tries to turn the chaos into a semicircle of chairs, carefully placing warring groups at differents sides to avoid quarrels and major fights. As soon as nothing more serious than shin-kicking and "accidental" beer-mug-on-shoe emptying occurs, her task is accomplished. Clearing her throat in the typical arrogant I-am-a-cleric-an-you-are-scum-but-I-am-too-kindly-to-notice way, she announces the evening's first guest: "Ladies, Gentlemen!" Occasional chuckles from the things in the room. "I would like to introduce our new member: Kitiara Uth Matar! Applause, please. Step forward, Kitiara, you do not need to be shy." More chuckles; most of the creatures present know Kitiara -a large number have actually been in bed/in a haystack/on a market square with her.

Whistles follow the warrior, as she now gets up from her chair and takes off the heavy cloak she has been wearing. She looks breathtaking in her skintight blue dragonscale armour and is obviously well aware of that. Swaying her hips, she walks to the front, where a single chair is placed. With the crooked smile that has killed so many, she stretches luxuriantly and removes her helmet, that seems to have been designed for the sole purpose of making her curly hair look tousled and sweaty in a most erotic way. Crysania takes a quick gulp from her dwarfspirit-and-magic-herbs flask, to remind herself where her true addiction lies.

The warrior sits down and starts. "Hi. I'm Kitiara. I'm a nymphomaniac. But that's not a problem." Nods and shouts of approval from the assembly. She smiles again; no one notices the cleric slump down onto the floor unconscious. "My problem is, I'm obsessed. Obsessed with elves." Grunts of anger from the dwarven party. "But, hey, come on; that's a minor fault of character and it's my only one after all... And you just have to love elves, don't you? They are sooo adorable: those slender bodies, pretty faces, slanted eyes and pointed ears -not to mention those masses of long, gorgeous hair!" Behind the counter, Tika, the barmaid, sighs. Puddles of drool are forming on the floor and she will have to clean them up. She decides she doesn't like elves. She has never liked Kitiara, anyway. Fortunately, Kitiara is not good at thoughtreading. "I even have my own pet-elf; well, pet-half-elf, only," she explains with her smoky voice."But he's cute enough: all red curls, huge green eyes and that pretty, stupid smile. We tend to have such a lot of fun together..." She winks to make everyone ctach her meaning -which wouldn't have been necessary, really. "Sure it would be even better if he'd not be so serious about things all the time, but I think I can cope with that. You know, I always, always end up doing as I please and having it my way!" She settles herself into a more comfortable position. "That's the best things about elves, really! Their women are such weak, helpless, despicable creatures, that they are not used to challenges. That's why they oh so readily accept that I'm the one with the trousers on." As everyone can see, she is only wearing chaps for the occasion and nothing much underneath. "To your knees, Tanis!" she quotes herself. "Get my boots off, you bastard! Yeah!" In the corner with the hooded figures, a red-haired and -surprisingly- bearded figure chokes on his ale. Everyone who knows his name expects him to faint with shame, but he doesn't. Maybe he's not the sissy everyone suspected, after all. Kitiara has meanwhiles decided to change her subject. "Well, at the moment, I must say, I'm annoyed. It's all about my brother's lover -no, not all those bitches that the big hulk Caramon is messing with! Keep those village girls away from me! I may be boyish, but I'm not interested in women!" She coughs a little. "Not much..." She waves a dismissive hand at the stunned faces around her. "No, it's all about my other brother. Right, Raistlin, that twisted little mage, has got a lover! Who'd have believed? Usually I'd say, 'Hey, congratulations, Raist, wherever did you find someone to neither judge you by looks, nor by character?' But no, this time I'm jealous! His lover is the cutest, sweetest, prettiest, most handsome and absolutely most adorably evil elf I've ever seen!" Half of the men in the room cry bitter tears at the look of dreamy crushedness on her face, the other half is talking to their cosmetic surgeon on mobile phones, asking for a vague esteem what it might cost to turn them into elves. Kitiara seems to have forgotten the stupefied audience and is revelling in a not very appetizing private fantasy. "Imagine, what it must be like to have a dark elf lover! Someone who'd have no moral objections..." Her face twists into something truly ugly, as she is mimicking what is obviously her half-elven lover in an unnaturally highpitched voice: "'No, Kit, no! That is disgusting! And anyway, what's the pont in all this?'" She turns herself again, (ignoring the thud in the corner, that tells her audience the conversation has really taken place and, yes, the other participant has finally fainted). "'I told you to lick my sword, Tanis!'" The Tanis-imitation-voice again: "'But there is blood on it and I'm sure it's not... normal for men to lick their girlfriends' swords. I mean it's a phallic symbol and all!'" She produces an exasperated sound. "How are you supposed to have fun with someone like that?" She looks around for confirmation an -much to her surprise- meets looks of incredulity and digust. The mobiles have vanished and everyone is glad not to be an elf -except for the elves, who try to sneak out a backdoor in secrecy, leaving an unconscious half-elf at Kit's doubtful mercy. With a completely unerotic snort she gets up, snatches her cloak and helmet from the floor and beckons fror the dragon to take her away.

A sigh of relief ebbs through the inn.

Meanwhiles, Crysania has recovered from the double impact of drugs and Kitiara's lethal smile and tries to get to her feet with the help of a table. She has vomited across several floorboards and feels a little better, in spite of the dirty looks Tika is sending her. Fortunately, she missed the revelations about Raistlin's lover, and since no one likes her, people won't tell her and happily watch her ridicule herself with her ramblings about love.

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Yes, I KNOW, Kit once said she liked real men, not weaklings, but since all her longer lasting relationships in the books are with elves, my guess has always been that she just can't admit she's in for the pretty types... and you just have to love elves, don't you?

If you can forgive me this violation of the English language and poor Dragonlance characters, be so gentle as to review. Constructive flames are always welcome! I might write some more chapters, if you've got suggestions who might be obsessed with what / whom...