#kit barrett

[watching-the-fire-dance]

(Kit Barrett)

If you want to help me support my friend Kit consider listening to his amazing song and maybe share it if you like it :)

[longuecarabine]

Time and Tide

"Careful with that, you're liable to spill it all over my lovely countertop!" the barman said, his squeaky voice rasping in righteous ire.

"It's definitely the countertop, but calling it lovely is a bit of a stretch," was the acerbic reply.

"Just because you've had to go and get yourself sloshingly drunk doesn't give you the right to spit on the little people," the barman responded. He sniffed, wiping at the small spill at his guest's elbow. "Not like you got the right anyhow."

" I didn't spit, I snapped. If, however, you would care to see a demonstration, you need only ask."

"Go easy on the poor man, Kit," said the other guest at the bar. He was a tall man in dark clothing, his auburn hair pulled back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon. He put a hand on the shoulder of his companion, an expression of detached amusement on his face, "There's not a wit in the city to compare with yours when you're on the way to a hangover."

"I'm hardly headed for a hangover Will," his friend replied, "I've hardly had a drop at all."

"You've nearly drained that bottle entirely, Kit," the man pointed out patiently, "don't you think it's time you called it an evening?"

"Like I said," Kit responded, gazing at him with a level expression that made the man shiver slightly, "Hardly a drop."

"Look, I know it's been a bad few weeks for you, Kit," the man began in a brisk tone, but his friend stopped him, laying a light hand over his.

"Just forget it, Will," she said, patting his hand slightly, "It was none of your business to start with anyway."

"Kit, that is a hell of a thing to say," the man said sharply, jerking his hand away from her touch.

"God's own truth, Will," she responded, her voice suddenly cool and distant, "and nothing else." She drained the bottle and stood, brushing her dark curls out of her face with one gloved hand as she tossed two silver coins on the counter. "That should cover the wine," she said to the barman,who just nodded. She  walked steadily to the door, her black cape swishing elegantly from her left shoulder.

Will followed her, face and hands tightened in anger.

"You can't just do that!" he yelled after her as they stepped out into the cool night air.

She stopped.

Will stood in the street, his cheeks flushed, his breath fogging in the lamplight. "You can't just turn yourself off, pretend that nothing happened! You can't shut everyone out like that!"

She turned, looking at him over her shoulder, "Can't I, by God?" she said, her voice soft. She took three calm steps back towards him, "What gives you, or anyone, else the idea that any of my affairs should be your business?" she said quietly.

"I'm your friend!" Will said hotly, her calm tone putting him over the edge.

She smiled, enraging him even further.

"You're a good man, Will," she said softly, "and your company pleases me. I value your time and your companionship, and it would grieve me to lose either. But do not," here she took a step closer to him, and he could smell the faint traces of the red wine on her breath, "presume to dictate to me the state of my own affairs, for believe me when I say they are none of yours, and you have no understanding of them."

Her tone was so sharp, so aggressive, that he took a step back, his expression slightly crumpled. "I'm only trying to help you, Kit," he said. "If you'd just explain, maybe I could help...?"

In a moment, the anger was gone from her face, replaced by her customary expression of easy authority as his meekness sapped the strength from her outrage. "It's my cross , Will. They all are. And they're no one else's to bear except mine. You cannot fix me, you cannot save me. Please, for the sake of our friendship, do not try."

He looked crestfallen. "Then what can I do? Kit, I can see that it bothers you, you always stare off into space like you need to talk about something, you mope, you snap at barmen, you're just so out of sorts! How can I help you?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched slightly, and took his hand off her shoulder, holding it gently. "Please just know that having someone to drink with is all that I need. My problems are ones of character and they are my own. Please trust that I will solve them in my own way on my own time. As my friend, I ask only that you try to bear with my eccentricities in this matter."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she just looked at him. "If I need your help I'll ask for it, Will," she said, letting go of his hand, "but until then, look to your own business, and leave me be."

She left him then, walking away down the muddy street, the cape swishing along at her side.  A shadow fluttered down from the rooftop and settled on her shoulder.

"Trouble?" it croaked in her ear.

"No, not as such," she said softly, stroking its feathered head with gentle fingers.

"Looked pushy," the bird said darkly, shifting its wings in agitation.

"It was fine, Caraway," Kit said gently, "I just had to explain things."

"Tch," the bird scoffed, "Explain what?"

"That I don't need him."

"He thought you did?" the bird cawed, "What utter twaddle!"

"Go easy, Caraway," Kit said, "It's a reasonable expectation."

"Pah!" said the bird, "I'd never say such a thing, not in a century!"

"You're a bird, it's different."

"A mightly clever one!"

"Agreed. Still not a human. And definitely not a human that's used to having people depend on them. Let's face up, my friend," she said, "you really only stick around so you can have someone to argue with."

"It's a reasonable requirement," Caraway said huffily. There was a moment of silence.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" Caraway asked, nuzzling her ear slightly.

"What, that whole thing?" Kit was pensive for a moment. "No," she said finally, "it doesn't. I don't need them either."

"I wasn't thinking of need," Caraway burbled, shuffling his weight on her shoulder.

Kit shrugged, "I chart my own course, Caraway," she said, "Those that want to come along are welcome, I've never been one to exclude."

The bird coughed politely.

"That was a particular exception," Kit said.

"And this one?" the bird asked, cocking its head.

"The tide waits for no man."

"Or woman either," the bird chuckled.

"Exactly so."